Firsts
by CaitlinWalker
Summary: A series of one-shorts (some loosely connected) detailing the first moments in Arthur and Joan's relationship. Slightly AU fluff with very slight S4 spoilers at times.
1. Chapter 1

**I cannot take sole credit for this fic. Besides the wonderful cast and crew who are responsible for producing a wonderful action packed and heartfelt show, there is also someone who I know for a fact is reading this and is responsible for a lot of the ideas that will feature in this fic. Therefore "Firsts" is dedicated to the most loyal Arjo shipper of them all.**

Prologue

The first day of an adventure.

Two operatives.

Arthur Campbell and Joan Mackenzie.

One hell of a ride.


	2. Chapter 2

Meet

He was checking his watch with the persistence of an impatient Schizophrenic. Seven forty-one…seven forty-two. He had the uncanny ability to check the time at regular one minute intervals without even trying. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was up. Wrong.

His contact arranged the meet for him, did all the needful. All Arthur Campbell needed to do was meet his target, a Russian by the name of Dmitri Koslov and swap a case packed with the equivalent of seventy-five thousand US dollars in Russian money, with a case of ill-gotten, military standard firepower. But it wasn't as innocent as that. Arthur's silver briefcase was lined with red velvet, underneath which was a tracking device the size of penny and the width of a fingernail. Virtually undetectable, the agency had claimed, and would lead a tactical team to Koslov's premises after Arthur dead dropped solid evidence of the arms dealers' activities.

Koslov was seven minutes late.

There was no chance in hell that was a coincidence. Koslov was a man of limited time, known for completing deals in seconds, normally exchanging his goods with his buyer as they passed with the efficiency of an Olympic relay team passing on a baton.

Arthur was exposed out in the open. The rain was pouring down, soaking through his shirt as he waited outside a forgotten farm house just outside of Moscow. It would be easy enough to walk away, crediting reasonable doubt as a factor. That would satisfy his boss. But it wouldn't satisfy him. Today was the culmination of a five week long deep cover operation. Five weeks spent in Russia, dealing with shady figures and having a gun held to his head every other day. He might never get another chance to take Koslov, the spearhead of the arms dealing gang, down ever again. And more people may die as a result.

Seven forty-three. He went to make a quick sweep around the corner, safe in the knowledge that he'd hear tyres or footsteps crunching on the gravelled path first.

He kicked an almost perfectly round stone along the dirt path that ran along the side of the derelict, fire damaged property. If things were to go right today, he'd be on a flight back to DC in the morning. The thought churned his stomach. One of the reasons he'd accepted this assignment was to get away from Gina. God, he wished that she'd accept that it was over. Truth be told, she was a nice enough girl but that wasn't enough to base a marriage on. Marriages should be based on love. Theirs was not.

Gravel crunched. Arthur spun on his heels, but restrained himself from rushing around the corner. Instead he kept at a steady pace, neither running nor taking his time. The advancing footsteps were measured with a heavy tone about them. Arthur knew from extensive research that Koslov was way over six feet with a weightlifter's physique. Three hundred pounds of pure muscle, not including the latest firepower he equipped himself with. It must be him.

Arthur rounded the corner, almost bumping into the target.

"Mister Davis," for a brute such as himself, Koslov's high pitched voice felt out of place, bordering on hysterical. What wasn't hysterical was the fact he had a Makarov in his hand and no case. "I'm so sorry for making you wait."

"You're a busy man. I understand." Arthur's voice did not give in to the sudden waves of panic that was washing over him. "And I understand your time is as valuable as mine. Let's just do this."

Koslov shook his head. "You'd like that, yes? Give me that case that is somehow rigged. Your guys going to trace the codes on the bank notes? Or is it a simple tracking device?"

This was either a test or the Russian was wise to it. Arthur hoped to god it was the former. He didn't get a chance to answer, as the Makarov was shoved into his gut.

"On your knees now. My time is, as you said, valuable. Let's make it quick."

Arthur didn't move as he looked up to the monster. "The hell is your problem? I was assured that you were the man I could trust. I thought we had a deal…and you're coming out with all this bullshit? You can trust me."

"Bullshit? Is that what you Americans call the truth now? You really think I can trust an American? You really think I wouldn't see through your fake documents? You really think I deal with Americans? I hate Americans. I hate everything about you and your country. You seek wars instead of battles." His face lit up with a sadistic smile. "Could you imagine my face when I hear about an American wanting to deal with me? I'll give you credit. You did well. You've made it this far. You've fooled a lot of people. But not me. I'm no fool. You're CIA."

"If I were CIA, I'd be shooting you right now instead of trying to play nice."

"You would if they allowed you to carry over here. You know your fatal flaw? Trusting your so-called contact, Yuri Chevko. Don't you remember killing his brother, Pasha in your hellhole country?"

Arthur blinked. Shit…he knew that bastard with beady, rat-like eyes looked familiar.

"Knees, Campbell. Yes, Arthur Campbell, CIA Operative and part of the DPD. I know who you are." Arthur didn't budge until Koslov used his strength to make him.

He ate gravel and tasted blood. He attempted to scramble to his feet but a boot crashed into his ribs, knocking him back down. He took a millisecond he couldn't really afford himself to take a precious breath before he swung a leg, connecting with only air.

A gunshot rang out and Arthur felt nothing. That was it? No pain? Nothing?

It took him two seconds to realise that the bullet hadn't actually hit him and he opened his eyes, scrambling to his feet, only to see the Makarov lying a few feet away. Koslov, unarmed threw another figure to the ground. He looked to move in for the kill, ready to pin them down until a boot cracked into his nose, the sound loud and made Arthur wince.

A woman. There was a woman.

The blonde crawled out of the way of Koslov's grasp, her legs flailing at him. Arthur rubbed the dirt out of his eyes and threw himself at the Russian, his arm attempting to lock around his thick neck. Koslov countered, always one step ahead, taking a hold of Arthur's arm, twisting and intent on snapped the arm clean. Arthur used his free arm to scratch at the muscular monster's face, going for the soft and delicate eyes. A power struggle with a man almost twice his weight. Odds were not in Arthur's favour. The ball was well and truly in the arms dealer's court.

Then another gunshot rung out and this time Arthur felt the impact as a bullet slammed into Dmitri's chest, his limp body falling knocking Arthur to the ground hard.

He groaned, shoving the lifeless and bloody body of Koslov off of him.

The woman entered his vision, standing over him, the Makarov still in her hand. She held out her free hand and hauled him back to his feet. "You good?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He blinked then cut the pleasantries. "The hell are you?"

She wiped a trickle of blood from her forehead with the sleeve of her jacket. "My job," she muttered then winced as she prodded the wide gash on her forehead.

"Your job?"

"My job," she echoed. "We're gonna have to clear up this mess. I saw the bastard's car parked a little back there. We're gonna have to dump that as well as the sack of shit's body."

"I will, I don't know about you. Heck, I don't even know who you are."

"Joan Mackenzie. Henry Wilcox recruited me for the DPD and my first assignment is to be sent out here to help your sorry ass. As far as I'm concerned my job here is done. You can return the favour by getting rid of Koslov and his rusting heap he used to call a vehicle."

Arthur stared blankly at her. "Wilcox?"

"Yes. Our boss…you sure don't seem to know a lot, do you?" She frowned. "You are aware I've been tailing you for the last twenty-four hours, aren't you?"

Arthur finally blinked. The hell was going on? "What?"

"Obviously not." The slightest of smiles appeared on her face but it disappeared just as quickly. "Look, Arthur. All you need to know is I was sent here to make sure everything went according to plan. Today was the worst case scenario…your cover was blown. That happens – although not to me. You're just lucky that I showed up just in time, otherwise it'd be you lying there with a 9mm in your cranium." She turned to leave, a hand clutching her side.

"Are you OK?"

She turned around and smiled. "I'm fine. It's you that isn't. Don't worry, I get it…male pride is hard to repair. Especially since a girl just saved your ass."

Arthur went to protest but Joan was already striding away in her six inch heels. A smile tugged on his lips as he watched her, memorised by the way her hips moved as she disappeared out of his sight. He couldn't help but feel he'd remember that moment forever.

It wasn't just the usual near-death experience. It felt like the start of something.

Something special.


	3. Chapter 3

Date

For the past week, he'd been simply watching from afar, barely daring to move from out behind his desk, scared that he might cross paths with the equally beautiful and dangerous blonde haired beauty. Scared that he'd say the wrong thing. Scared that he'd look like a fool.

Maybe he was just a fool for thinking that in the first place. After all, he felt some sort of spark back in Moscow. The way they had taken down Koslov was as though they'd worked together for years, not minutes. Not to mention the fact that Joan Mackenzie had undoubtedly saved his sorry ass, even if he would never admit it.

Sure, he could say his pride made him stubborn to admit it. But he could also state the joy he got in teasing her also made him stubborn to admit it. Especially because he found her own stubbornness unbelievably cute.

Yet, here he was, hiding from her, the past week as they'd both been relegated to desk duty, not even saying a single word to her upon their return to the DPD. And it was his own fault. Joan didn't strike him as one to make the move. She was strictly all business and she seemingly content in her ways.

"Man up Arthur," he muttered under his breath as he forced his feet to make the short trip over to her scarily neat desk. "Man up."

He had to clear his throat to get her attention. She looked up from a stack of paperwork. She frowned. "Can I help you? You need someone to save your sorry ass again?"

"Um…" Words, he reminded himself. Words. "Now we both know that I'm capable of looking after my own ass."

"Is that so? Tell me…what were your plans when you were staring down the barrel of Koslov's gun?"

Arthur liked this sort of dance. "Perhaps, you're right. Perhaps, you're wrong. The point is," he perched himself on the edge of her desk earning himself a glare. "The point is that we'll never know."

She smiled. "We won't. But I'm very content with my theory; therefore I will consider no other alternative."

"Tell you what. Why don't we settle this once and for all?" He finally felt he was getting somewhere. The words he wanted to say were finally starting to come out of his mouth.

"Really? You gonna bring Koslov back from beyond the grave and play the whole situation out again without me?" God, that smirk on her face was hot.

"You know, I'm brilliant in so many ways but resurrection isn't something I've mastered yet. I was thinking about something less dangerous without that six foot four Russian monster. Drinks."

"With me?" He nodded and Joan scoffed. "You really think drinks with me would be less dangerous?"

He frowned, fighting the smile off his own face. "I know it's all a front, the whole big scary tiger front…you're a pussycat really, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Who knows? Wonder if your wife would know?"

Arthur looked down at the tight gold band on his fourth finger. He squeezed it off, shoving it into a pocket. "I highly doubt she cares…if she was to care, then it'd be a first. Now me? I care. I care about beer and a good time. And I care about settling old scores."

"So…you want me to prove you wrong, huh? How are you going to do that?"

"Pool…darts…name your game. But this…injustice that's hanging over us? It's killing me to know you're so wrong. I win then I'm right. You win…" He tailed off as he laughed.

"Arthur Campbell, you self-righteous son of a bitch. You're not gonna stop, are you?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not a chance."

She smirked. Again. He had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from smiling at her cute expression. "You're on."

He pushed himself off the desk onto his feet. "Allan's. Six o'clock," he said as he began to walk away. "Or it's decided that I'm right after all."

# # #

Arthur Campbell was a name that came with something of a reputation within the agency. Once in the navy, he progressed through the agency's ranks at an alarming rate. It was no secret that he was earmarked for the head of the DPD's job once it came available.

However it was no secret that the married man was neglecting his vows.

But for all his cons, she found herself being led by her heart, rather than her head. Her head would tell her to back off such damaged property to potentially protect her heart. Her heart wanted to go on a rare adventure.

Arthur was charming, decent enough and, to be fair, the floppy haired operative was kinda handsome.

Joan's heart wasn't looking for love. Not yet. All she wanted was what he promised. A good time. Too much of her time was dedicated to work, either tracking down international threats or shuffling paper. Who was she to forbid herself a "good time"?

Allan's was not a place she frequented often. In fact she could count the number of times she'd visited the place on one hand. But she found him, sitting at a table for two, with relative ease sipping on a bottle of beer. There was a bottle waiting for her. That was the beer, so she was looking for the good time. "Just to be clear," she said as she swung her blazer over the back of her chair. "What are we classifying tonight as?"

Arthur slowly placed his bottle down onto the stained wooden table. "I don't know."

"You don't know and yet you dragged me here?" She frowned.

"Well," the word took it's time in coming out of him. "What do you want it to be?"

She shook her head, starting to see how frustrating he could be. No wonder his marriage was as stable as a see saw. "No. I came here at your request. The notion was entirely yours. Now, Arthur Campbell, you tell me what exactly you want out of this – and don't you dare say to settle scores because we both know I'm in the right – or else, I'll walk straight outta here."

He smiled. "There's no bullshitting you, is there?"

"It's one of my qualities that I'm most proud of, yes."

"Well, besides the game of pool, maybe darts that I promised – to settle…" She began to stand back up, outta the chair but he waved for her to sit down with a hand. "Well, besides that reason, I…I-." His eyes wandered up to the ceiling. "I want to…get to know you?" What should have been a statement was twisted into a question by his certain uncertainty.

"Is that so?"

Again he looked unsure, frightened to say the wrong thing. "Yes?"

She drummed her fingers along the table before she reached for her bottle of beer. "Well…I suppose it beats sitting at home with the cat and cable."

"See?" He pointed a finger at her. "Two seconds in and I've learned two different things about you."

She couldn't help by smile at his charm and the sense of humour.

"Male or female?"

"What?"

"The cat."

"Oh…" She wondered whether she'd missed something when her eyes briefly wondered into his own. "Female."

A smile crossed his lips. "See? We're getting somewhere."

Joan laughed. "Are we? Sitting around a table discussing animals and television. Wow. We're breaking some ground here."

"Well," he raised one of his thick, almost agency-famous brows. "What do you want us to do?"

"Well," she dragged out the word. "You promised a "good time." Show me one."

# # #

"Red right corner…"

Joan could feel Arthur's dark eyes watching her every move as she reached for the cue ball, pushing herself onto her tiptoes as she reached with the cue. She was waiting for it…just waiting.

"You're doing it all wrong."

There it was. She turned around to him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I don't know how I could make myself any clearer. Your whole…" He gestured with his hands, trying to conjure words up. "Posture. It's all wrong."

"Is that so?" She'd already let him win at darts. Male pride was something she didn't wish to damage because male pride could never be fixed. Now it was time for pool. And Arthur's masculinity was already showing through. He couldn't help but want to help the damsel in distress. "Why don't you show me where I'm going wrong?"

He accepted the bait. "Turn around." She complied as he moved in close. "Cue.." His hands rested lightly on her arms, his chest brushing against her back. "Like this…the red is far away…you need to…" His hands travelled down to her hips. She was wondering if he was playing along or whether it was really that easy. It was time to properly test him.

"And bend…?" He didn't move out of the way as she ever so slightly thrust herself into him. Most people wouldn't have noticed his voice climbing the slightest of octaves. She did.

"Perfect."

"Now what…you want me to hit it?" She bit down on her lip. God, it was that easy.

"What?"

"The cue ball, Arthur. Do you want me to hit it?" Way too easy and so much fun.

"Yes, of course."

As expected, the red ball sailed into the top right pocket after she fired the cue ball at it. She slowly rose to normal height, shooting him a smirk as she strode over to take her next shot, her heels clacking against the tiled ground. She enjoyed this sort of game. He was the perfect participant, willing and oh so keen. She sunk her next four shots with not his help, but years of experience with a cheap trophy thrown in for winning The Farm's annual pool tournament.

He had to pick his jaw up off the ground. Even when he did, the words failed to come, his eyes staring at her. Memorised.

"You're a good teacher," she remarked.

Finally he blinked. "Not that good. Where the hell did you learn that?"

She walked over to him, close, and pressed a hand on his chest. "Now Arthur….a girl has her secrets. Secrets that she…can't…ever…share." She whispered those words at him, aware of the effect it would have.

His eyes were watching her lips. "I can keep a secret."

"In this business?" She could feel his chest fall heavily with each breath. "I'm very sure you can. But me? I'm an altogether different business."

"Is that so?" He was beginning to move closer, snapping up the millimetres between them hungrily. His words tickled her skin.

"It is…" She couldn't help but smile. He had beautiful eyes, big pools she could see herself in. "So, we've played darts, I've just whipped your ass at pool-."

He cut in. "I don't recall us ever finishing the game."

She placed a finger on his lips. "I did…just a few seconds ago to save you from any further embarrassment. Now, as I was saying before you so rudely butted in…we've played darts, pool and we've had some drinks. I've not totally been swept off my feet but it wasn't a bad night, truth be told. There's just one thing I need to know. One thing we must now do."

"Yeah?"

"Decide on what tonight was."

"Well…" He stuck out his bottom lip as he teased. "You know what? You're a smart girl. I'll let you decide."

She nodded. "Well, if I'm being honest, I think tonight I was on a date with a married man."

"A date, huh? That's how you're going to classify it?"

She smiled and pulled herself away from his gaze as she reached for her jacket. "It is…and as far as first dates go, I enjoyed myself." She pulled her white leather jacket on and brushed his arm as she past him. "Thank you Arthur. I'll see you tomorrow."

She didn't have to turn around to know that he was staring at her ass as she left.


	4. Chapter 4

Injury

Arthur squinted at the lime green post-it note that was attached to his desk phone. With every minute that passed as he stared at the single line of almost calligraphic writing in pen, he seemed to sink further into the confusion that was hitting him.

Co-ordinates, a date and a time.

Secret assignment? An asset meet? Perhaps maybe even an off the record meeting with the higher-ups. He would've had to been deaf to have not heard the rumours that had been floating around Langley for the past few months. There was talk of change within the agency, a shuffling of the senior figures and of the short list of names that would be considered to replace the head of the DPD Henry Wilcox when or if the time came, Arthur's was very near the top. But of course an official approach could not be made until an official announcement was made. Perhaps the short note, that was dated for tonight was for the seniors to start tapping him up for the position.

Arthur tracked the location down with the specialist software that was pre-loaded onto his desktop computer, making a note of the park the co-ordinates led him to. The date was today's and the time he had to be there for which was seven-fifteen. Then he sat back in his leather desk chair, threw a quick glance in the direction of the intriguing lady that was Joan Mackenzie before he turned back to his paperwork.

He was beginning to worry if his date, that was what they had decided to call it, with her, was going to come to nothing. Since that day, two days ago, they'd made conversation on only a few occasions, mainly in passing, and strictly professional. Sometimes he'd think that she was looking over in his direction, maybe even smiling as she did, but he could never be sure.

Such a shame. He liked her, he really did. And he was under the belief that the feeling was mutual. She said that she had "enjoyed herself." That had to count for something, surely. But there was something that was holding her back. And not in that teasing fashion she demonstrated so expertly at Allan's. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly and he feared that he was running out of time to do exactly that.

Because he was as bad as her. He was holding back because he was scared to death that he'd do the wrong thing or say something stupid. He didn't even have her but he was scared that he'd lose her.

He wanted her.

But he couldn't have her until he found the courage. And he hoped to God that he'd unearth it soon before it was too late.

He stayed until just after six, filling out the paperwork that they never really told you about at The Farm. The Farm, or Camp Peary to give it its official name, was all about the action – the fighting, the confidence and most importantly the art of espionage. The other thing, beside the paperwork, that they didn't tell you about was that the skills were not essentially transferrable to everyday life. If that was the case, he'd have the confidence to walk up to Joan and tell her what he really wanted, how he felt and ask if she was willing to go along with him.

Damn.

She played him at the bar and she was still playing him now, whether it was intentional or not because he couldn't get her outta his mind. Even as he passed her empty desk on the way out of the DPD, he could still see her there, with her borderline neurotic tendencies to keep her desk that pristine. Was there even a speck of dust on that clear, organised surface?

He shook his head, unsuccessfully trying to get her outta his mind, as he left Langley and hopped into his car. He had more than an hour to kill before the meet. In theory he could go home and kill some time there but in practice? Not a chance in hell. Gina would most likely be home and the thought of seeinghis wife put him off the idea.

Another case where he lacked courage. Courage to get rid of her out of his life and move on.

He killed just under an hour of time by aimlessly driving around the local area, keeping track of the time. The sun was beginning to set by the time he pulled up on a dirt path, killed the engine and hopped out. Unsure of where exactly to go, he leaned against the bonnet of his sedan and waited, not even bothering to check his watch.

If it was important they'd find him.

It was important. They did find him.

"Well, well, well," Joan remarked as she walked up to him. "Perfect timing, Arthur Campbell."

"Joan," he smiled. "You were honestly the last person I expected to be behind this. A shady night-time meet? You're a big mystery, aren't you?"

"Aren't I just?" She slid herself onto the bonnet of his car. "Thank you for coming."

"It's my pleasure." He turned to her and made a point of looking into her eyes. "Really, it's a pleasure."

"Didn't think you would come, if I'm being honest…guess someone had to man up and make the move, huh?" She grinned at him. "Oh c'mon Arthur, I'm every bit as much as a spy as you –maybe even better. If you think you were being subtle glaring in my direction, you're very much wrong."

"You weren't that subtle yourself…yeah I saw you looking too."

She frowned. "And who says I was being subtle? Maybe I just really wanted to look."

He couldn't help but smile. He was right. "So what is this…a second date? On your terms because you didn't like the first one?"

Joan shrugged. "I never said I didn't have a good time, it just…it just felt ordinary. I don't want ordinary…I want something special."

"Special, huh? So what do you have in mind?"

She slid off the bonnet and stole his hand from him, flashing him a smile as she looked back at him. "No questions, Arthur. Just trust me, ok?"

He nodded. "OK."

# # #

What did Joan Mackenzie classify as a special night? A scenic night sky? Great company? Feeling so comfortable with someone that there were never those awkward lulls? Those were all items she could check off on her mental checklist.

But there was one thing that was eating at her. That wedding ring he seemed reluctant to take off. As if his wife was watching. As if he had no intention of getting rid of her.

Other than that, Arthur Campbell was the perfect gentleman. He was funny, charming and tried his best to show a little chivalry, holding the park gate open for her. She was glad she was finally letting her heart have what it wanted. That little adventure she rarely went on.

But there was just one thing she needed to test him on.

She let go of his hand as she caught sight of the bicycles chained to the railings. She flashed him a cheeky grin. "Want to do something a little wild?"

She hadn't forgotten how comments like that provoked a reaction in him. "Why not…what do you have in mind?"

"Well," she pointed over to the bikes. "Wanna go on a little ride?" There was that glint in his eyes. "The bicycles, Arthur."

"Oh…you brought bicycles with you?"

Man, he was either a little slow or stupid. "No…but as far as I'm concerned, bicycles left unattended in a public park are anyone's for the taking. So...wanna go on a little ride?" This was the test.

"W-why not?" She caught the little stutter at the beginning of his question. The apprehension that stemmed from the truth in the agency rumour that Arthur had had a little cycling mishap during his days at the farm. Little mishap being that the man couldn't ride a bike to save his life and during a training exercise at Camp Peary he had lost control of his bike, flew over his handlebars and nearly broke his neck in the process.

Now, the fact that they had stumbled upon two abandoned bicycles was a happy coincidence. But if he was willing to potentially put his wellbeing on the line for her, he could very well be a keeper.

"C'mon," she gestured at him and she climbed onto the nearest one. He was hesitant. "Hey…c'mon. What are you waiting for?"

He shrugged then gave a smile that looked a little forced. "Nothing," he replied and hopped onto the other one. Looks like he was willing to risk his neck. Could this man be any more perfect? Well, apart from the whole wife issue.

They set off and she could tell without looking that he was tailing her quite a bit. She was scared to engage in a conversation with him in case it interrupted his intense bout of concentration. Either that or he had finally conquered his cycling issues.

Then they hit the steep descent of the hill they had trekked up earlier. It was unavoidable. What goes up must go down. Not just an overused cliché but basic laws of gravity. And boy did Arthur go down.

She heard him curse first as the bike picked up speed. Then she heard what sounded like a "help". Then she felt his bike smack right into the side of hers.

Consequently she lost control too, toppling right over, her head cracking on the dirt path and the bike landing on top of her painfully. But hurt and slightly dazed, she felt a pang of guilt when her date flew past her in the air, landing directly onto his arm with the most sickening of cracks.

# # #

Hospitals freaked her out.

The way that the floors both squeaked and glistened under nauseatingly bright lights. And that smell…that unmistakable smell. God, get her outta here.

"Mrs Campbell?"

Joan heard the nurse call out the name but she didn't react until the nurse came over and tapped her on the arm. "Mrs Campbell…you can see your husband now."

"I'm not…" She stared at the young woman blankly. Then it clicked. That damn ring. "Um, yeah sure."

Poor Arthur had snapped his ulna clean and according to the nurse, he was going to need surgery the next day. Oh did she feel guilty. Arthur Campbell and bikes did not go.

"Hey you," she called as she entered his room.

He was wearing a hospital robe and he looked like hell. Yet his face still lit up when he she walked into the room. Despite the fact she was the reason why he was there. "Hey…you ok?"

She couldn't help but smile. He was the one lying in a hospital bed whereas she just had a few cuts and a lot of guilt. "Only superficial. I'll be fine in a few days…" She rubbed his shoulder. "I'm sorry Arthur…that was entirely my idea and this is entirely my fault. I'm sorry."

"Don't be…" He sounded drugged up to his eyeballs. "Don't girls find scars…" He laughed. "Sexy?"

Man, a doped up Arthur Campbell was even cuter than a sober one. "Oh, on men like you?" She paused for effect before she added the comment that although truthful, probably wouldn't be remembered once the pain meds wore off. "They just make them even sexier."

"Sweet…I'll be like some top secret CIA pirate ninja, with badass scars and a hot chick of a lady…"

Did he just say that? "Boy, do you need some rest. I need to get some beauty sleep so I'm going to head home. They told me they'll be releasing you after your surgery tomorrow…you want me to pick you up?"

"Sure…thank you." His eyes fluttered shut and she went to leave, only to hear him mutter. "You don't need any beauty sleep, you're as beautiful as you are," as she left.


	5. Chapter 5

Gift

All these channels and there was still nothing on. Sometimes cable TV sucked as much as weekends stuck at home, alone, did.

She shoved her aging cat off her lap, and Boots did not even bother to make an effort to put up a fight. That seemed to be a common trend at the present moment. Nobody seemed to bother about her. Whether it was her cat or whether it was her date, they didn't seem to care about her. The latter she couldn't blame. She could never blame Arthur even if he decided to take out a restraining order against her after what she had done to him on their date, four nights ago.

That was the last time she had seen him. He had apparently gotten out of the hospital early the day after he'd snapped his arm clean for her, and hadn't bothered to inform her. She looked and felt like a fool when the doctor informed her that Arthur had left two hours before she arrived to pick him up.

Was that it? Was it over before it had really begun?

There was only one person she could blame for all that. Herself. She'd only wanted to see if he could be that guy that she could possibly begin to allow herself to picture the rest of her life with. He was. But in the process of discovering that, she'd seemingly scared him off by coming across as some sort of crazed maniac that seemed intent on inflicting pain on unsuspecting kind, caring guys.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She crossed her living room to scan her bookshelves to look for something to read to ease her mind. She cursed herself for her collection of love stories. She cursed herself because she might have just lost that chance of love in her life.

Joan nearly jumped as the sharp ring of the doorbell pierced the silence. She shook her head at her own silliness – she was a spy that risked her life every single day, for heaven's sake – as she made her way to the front door. She stalled for time to compose herself by taking a quick peek through the peephole.

It was the wrong move if she wanted to compose herself. Her heart quickened and she, yes she Joan Campbell, felt the urge to squeal as she fumbled to unlock the door. And all she had seen in her glance was _those_ eyebrows.

"Arthur?" She was painfully aware her words were a little too high to consider herself composed. But she went easy on herself. She hadn't seen the charmer for days and she had managed to convince herself that she scared him off.

"Hey Joan," he smiled back at her. His arm, in a cast, was also protected in a sling. He looked a little rough, circles under his eyes. He clearly hadn't been sleeping well.

"Arthur…I'm so sorry, I-I…"

"No," he waved his good arm at her. "No, no. Don't apologise. I'm the careless one. For heaven's sake, I'm a grown man who can't ride a bike. You probably heard that particular rumour somewhere and I don't fault you for wanting to have a little fun with that."

She let out a sigh of relief. If he only he knew the real reason why she as good as forced him on that goddamn bicycle. "Yeah…I'm just sorry you got hurt."

"Don't be," his voice was straightforward and, god, so honest. "I've came here to say sorry to you."

What? Was he still high on pain meds? "I don't understand…"

"Well, for one, I made a fairly sharp exit outta that hospital without telling you and not bothering to reach out to you at all these past few days. I've no doubt given you the wrong impression."

Well that was pretty obvious. "I'd understand if you need some space, Arthur. Our second date, I put you in hospital. You're probably thinking that I'll kill you on the third."

"Oh c'mon, Joan. You could kill me at any given point." He grinned at her. "But no. I have to explain. I didn't want to spend any longer in that hospital because…well, they freak me out. Yeah, I know. I'm a grown man scared of both bikes and hospitals, judge me."

God, she loved it when he was being so charming.

"And I'm really sorry I didn't tell you. But I couldn't. Mainly, because I don't have your number and the only way I found your address to actually come here is by getting a buddy to hack into the database at Langley. If I get caught, it'll be worth it." He smile widened. "So, that's the apologies out of the way, I guess I need to thank you now."

"Thank me? For what?" Man, Arthur was really going out of his way to confuse her today, wasn't he? "You really need to start making some sense here, otherwise you'll have to share those drugs they gave you for your arm, so I can start to see things like you are."

"Ha! Funny one, aren't you? No, but really. I have to thank you."

She frowned. "For what?"

"For making me see things differently. Things between us…I felt that there was something holding both of us back on those two dates. I felt it…it just took for me to have to spend time with myself, alone in that darn hospital bed, to actually realise it. So…" He removed an envelope from his back jean pocket and offered it to her. "These past few days gave me the chance to finally put things right. So this is my gift to you to say thanks."

Joan carefully opened the unsealed enveloped and unfolded the wad of papers. She scanned the first few lines. Her jaw dropped as it hit her just how much Arthur really cared about her. "Does Gina know?"

Arthur smiled. "She will this afternoon. But I wanted to let you know first. Because this is for you."

Joan smiled as she carefully handed the divorce papers back over to Arthur. "You are aware that you'll be lucky to sleep in the garden tonight, right?"

"I am aware, that I'll have to make a sharp exit before she tries to burn all my clothes with me still in them, yes." He smiled before he reached out to touch Joan's arm. "But I really don't care."

"Thank you, Arthur." She took his hand. "Do you want to come in?"

He shook his head. "I do want to so much but I've got to end things with Gina as soon as. Don't worry about me; I've got an apartment sorted out for myself. Only start to worry about me when I don't return to work on Monday. Then you can worry…and check the morgues or the local park for my diced up body."

"Sure, sure." She stroked his cheek. "Good luck."

"Thanks." His face was serious. "I think I'm gonna need it."


	6. Chapter 6

Pet Name

Paper was a strange thing. Most people didn't give it a second's thought. However, it could signify so very much. As of Saturday, it signified Arthur Campbell's first steps as a free man.

Gina wasn't happy. That was no real surprise. But she was taking it, as well as claiming to "take his ass to court and hell and back", much better than he expected. For one, he was still alive two days after he had served her with those divorce papers. That was something he was happy about.

But back to paper, more specifically the sheet of paper in his hand which brought him to thinking about how wonderful the natural substance was. The sign-up sheet for the inter-department annual quiz-night. For once, he was tempted to take part. Only because he thought he actually had a chance this time if he got the teammate he wanted.

"Hey," he perched himself down on Joan's desk.

She looked up, her glare only softening when she saw who it was. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Perhaps." He smiled wryly.

She nodded. "It's Gina, isn't it? You haven't served her with those papers yet and you need me there to protect you when you do, don't you?"

Aw, chivalry. From a woman. "No need. The deed is done." He showed her his empty ring finger, a little uncomfortably as he had to twist his arm that was now held together with metal pins around, to show her.

"How did she take it? You need me to sort her out before she takes you out?"

Her offer was scarily genuine. "No, I'm fine, thanks. You can just remind me to get the best lawyer in America in the near future."

"Noted," she looked briefly down at the file she was reading before she closed it. "How's the arm?"

"Hurts like hell but I'm managing. But I haven't come here for protection or sympathy, I've come here for you."

She frowned, uncertain of his motives. "OK…"

He slammed the sign-up sheet down in front of her. "You're joining me for this next week."

"I am?" Her frown deepened, the glare returning at the sheet and thankfully not him. "Yeah, I think not."

"Yeah, no. Sorry but you don't have a choice here."

Now she glared at him. He kept a brave face as he refused to let her scare him off. "The last time I checked, I lived in a nation that is renowned for its right to freedom. So, sorry but I do have a choice."

"First of all, well done on remembering your rights. And secondly, rumour has it you're a smart one. Degree in political sciences, I hear…" He grinned. "And thirdly? You owe me." He waved his disabled arm as best as he could. "Big time."

She sighed. "Fine," she spat and reached for her chrome plated and very expensive looking pen that sat in a glass case on her desk. Neurotic much? "Happy?" She muttered as she scrawled her name next to his.

"Delighted. Thank you."

Her eyes narrowed and he felt what it was like to experience what an international terrorist experienced when they had Joan Mackenzie after their sorry ass. But just as quickly as the fear rose in him, it faded away when she got that look in her eye. "You're welcome…wheels."

"No prob-." He blinked at her. "Wheels? What the hell?"

"You heard, wheels."

"Wheels," He faked a laugh. "Funny…I could've died on that bike and you're calling me "wheels"? Mature, Mackenzie."

"I am mature…unlike you, I'm not a thirty something man who can't at least try to not fall off a bike. And," She jammed a finger into his chest. "In case you're forgetting, you also crashed into me. You could've killed me. Therefore, I owe you nothing. I'm just doing this quiz out of courtesy so you don't run home crying when you can't answer any of the questions and lose miserably."

"Sure, sure." He snatched the sheet away from her before she tore it up out of spite. "Thanks…babe."

She actually slammed the table with the palms of her hands as she rose to meet his eye line. "Call me babe again and you can add broken kneecaps to your list of ailments." She said the sentence with a sadistic smile. Again, the threat was all too real.

"What's the matter? Double standards bother you too?" God, he was really toeing a very fine line.

"You know what? Just call me that again…see what happens, wheels."

"What ba-." He had great fun stretching out the first two letters as he turned to leave with no intention to say the other two."

"Hey," she called in a normal and less scary tone. "You doing anything tonight?"

He turned around. "Got to sort out my new flat…I'm free tomorrow though."

She nodded and smiled. "Good. You'll find a post-it on your desk tomorrow."

He too nodded and turned to head back to his desk. "Man, that girl loves her post-it notes," he muttered.


	7. Chapter 7

Kiss

"Joan Mackenzie, you crazy mess. Promise me this. No death threats, no threats in general and no being responsible for broken bones. Just a nice, normal date in the company of a wonderful man. Please, Joan. Promise me that you won't ruin this for me."

She stared back at her reflection who was speaking to her. Both she and it were ever so slightly shaking as they both swore a promise. The hell was wrong with her? This was date number three; her nerves didn't exist for one and two. Yet now they rear their ugly head when things were starting to look good. Tonight had been on her mind for ages but all of a sudden she was dreading it.

And she knew exactly the reason why. Arthur Campbell had become free and her's for the taking. She was in the perfect position. She could have him.

For keeps.

Try any of that nonsense again and she might just lose him.

Forever.

That was why she was keeping things simple. Casual. There was no way a night out at the cinema could go as badly as the way a night out at the park did. There was no bikes, little for a man with a broken arm to struggle with and there was no longer any awkwardness of dating a married man.

She checked the time, knowing full well that her last minute preparation had left her cutting it fine. She shook her head, grabbed her bag and legged it out of her house. Tonight was going to be good. She wasn't going to get it off to a bad start by running late.

# # #

Her instructions were precise and to the point. Again. The name of the cinema, time and, this time, a dress code.

"_The Carlton Multiplex. 7pm. Casual which translates as don't make too much of an effort. And I promise you. No bikes."_

He smiled at that control freak that ruled Joan Mackenzie's mind with an iron fist. She'd make a damn fine boss at the agency someday. Professional and determined with that rare element of humanity. She was a hell of a lot better than those in charge right now. She made Henry Wilcox look like an amateur.

Arthur made good time, arriving fifteen minutes early. He adhered to her rules, wearing a polo shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. He was glad to see she had stuck to her own rules, wearing a cardigan and jeans.

"Perfect timing," he looked at his watch. The second hand had literally struck seven. "How do you manage to do that? It's just a tad creepy."

"Force of habit, I guess. When you have to do it for a living, you kinda just end up doing it all the time." She smiled and then pulled him into a hug. "Now, I promise you that, unlike our last date, you will not end up in a hospital bed come the end of the evening."

"So whose bed will I end up in?" Arthur's comment went ignored, Joan not even bothering to acknowledge it. It'd be a different story if it was her making such comments. Damn double standards. He clapped his hands. "OK, so what are we seeing?"

Joan smiled that knowing smile, that twinkle in her eye. She had her mind set.

"Because this is a date, right? Therefore we are equals and we have an equal say in what we wanna see…right?" Why was he trying to negotiate with Joan Mackenzie? He'd have better luck negotiating with a sociopath.

"Yes, you're right. This is a date and yes, for all intents and purposes we are equals. But, as you so blatantly put it, this is a date. And your job is to keep me happy because you're the guy here, aren't you?"

He sheepishly nodded. He may be the guy but he sure as hell didn't wear the metaphorical trousers in this relationship. "But there's this great film, you know that horror with-."

"Oh that?" Joan turned around to face him. "Seen it. Main character kills himself at the end after all his friends die. Decent film though."

"What?"

"You heard. Oh sorry, "Spoiler Alert"." She laughed then grinned. "Guess you don't wanna see that anymore, huh?"

"I-I…" She was right. He didn't want to see that anymore. "So, you have a film in mind?" He asked, stating the obvious.

"Perhaps…"

"Let me guess," Arthur sighed as he felt like his guess was pretty much correct anyway. "That film with Sandra Bullock about that guy in a coma."

She took his hand to drag him through the double glass doors. "You sir, guess correctly."

He scoffed. "Seriously? I never pegged you as the rom-com type. I thought you would be more the spy thriller type at least."

Now it was her turn to scoff. "Sorry but "spy thrillers"? C'mon Arthur you and me both know, from experience, how they are laden with inaccuracies." An elderly couple gave her a funny look as they passed by at her comment.

Arthur waited until the coast was clear and he had stifled that laugh before he spoke again. "Even James Bond?"

"Even James Bond."

Boy did she like to stab a man in the heart. "Maybe we should think this relationship over…"

"No, no. The relationship is not the issue," she said then poked him in the chest with a finger. "Maybe some little boys need to grow up. Now, let's get a move on before we miss the previews."

# # #

"Well…that was…"

Joan nodded as Arthur was trying his best to pretend that he didn't enjoy the film. He could lie, which he could try, but he'd be lying to someone who also lied for a living. And seriously? How could anyone not enjoy that film? For heaven's sake, Sandra Bullock was in it. And Sandy B was awesome in anything.

Plus, on a personal level, one of the lead guys was pretty darn cute. Almost as cute as her date.

No, wait. Arthur was just as cute. No, cuter. The charmer had just taken her hand as they stepped out of the cinema. "Not bad."

"Liar. You mean that was good. You're just refusing to compliment it because you're a guy. Let's face it, you enjoyed it."

"OK fine…I did. But you know what?"

"What?" She couldn't help but notice how a smile tugged at his lips.

"My date was even better."

"She was, was she?" She turned to face him.

"Yeah," he voice cracked as he took a step closer to her. "Much better. Beautiful actually. And there was always the added bonus that I left unscathed. "

"Good to know. That's always a plus, huh?" Looking into the dark pools of his eyes, the way the moon just hit them so perfectly and the way she was feeling, she knew that if she didn't follow her heart right there and then, she'd regret that moment for the rest of her life.

She followed her heart and she knew that she would cherish it forever.

She let go of his hand, leaned into him, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest as she planted her lips onto his.

Immediately, he reciprocated, his hands sliding down to her waist and finding their way to her hips where they settled as he gently pulled her even closer to him.

The kiss may have only lasted for a few seconds but, to her, it would always last an eternity.

Natural. Desire. Perfection.

As their moment came to a natural stopping point, as they rested their foreheads against one other's, Joan felt something catch in her throat. Her voice cracked, as emotions began to build. She did not cry but she just felt it hitting her like a tidal wave.

It was real.

Arthur Campbell was the reason why she was put on this earth.

"I've had a wonderful time tonight, Arthur. Thank you."

"Me too, Joan. Thank you."

They both smiled and Arthur pulled her into his arms. They soon parted after their embrace, in separate cabs after having a date and a moment that they'd both remember until the day they would die.

Tonight was perfect but, they still just weren't ready. Tonight was just not the night.

But they had the rest of their lives for that.

And, regardless of whenever it happened, it would always feel perfect and right.


	8. Chapter 8

Night

On this night, Joan Mackenzie was a boxer preparing for the biggest fight of her life. Steely look of determination in her eye, all the skill she needed in her mind. And Arthur couldn't resist using this particular metaphor as an excuse to give her a glorified back rub as her metaphorical trainer in her corner. "Now, remember. Our biggest rivals are Wilcox and Newman. Wilcox may be an unpredictable son of a bitch but he has some smarts. Newman-."

She shrugged off his touch. "Don't get me started on Seth. I know what he's like."

He sadly nodded. He knew full well of Joan's history with him. Well, he had heard the rumours about them. The hook-ups. It was almost common knowledge around Langley yet there had never been any solid proof and it wasn't exactly the sort of question he wanted to bring up. But there was now rumours circulating that Seth was bitter that Arthur had "stolen" his lady. A victory against that smug prick would rub Newman's face in it even more.

Still, having Joan by his side was one of the best prizes Arthur had ever won.

"OK," he took her hand as they prepared to enter Allan's, the host of the agency's annual quiz night. "I expect nothing more than a win. You got that, Mackenzie?"

"Loud and clear, Campbell." Lord, was she cute when she played along. But he knew, all too well, that nice girls like Joan had a mean streak. And nice girls like Joan who were in the CIA had a very mean streak. Failure was simply not an option. "The same applies to you too."

There were given table number nine. Team nine out of ten other hopeful pairs. Arthur had done his homework. Newman and Wilcox were the main rivals. They'd won the competition for the last three years. And boy, did it seem like an almighty big coincidence that Henry Wilcox had been the head of the DPD for the last three years.

Arthur glanced down at the sheet of paper in front of him. "Oh, we need a team name."

"A team name?"

"That's what I said." He tapped the pen against his chin. "So…"

Joan shook her head. "Team names? What are we? Five year olds?"

"Well, it's kinda traditional. It adds to the whole fun of this event, you know?" He arched a hopeful brow. "You do know fun, right?"

Again she shook her head, dismissive of the very notion of fun. "Arthur, this is a competition. And we're gonna win this. The sole purpose of tonight is to win. Not to have fun."

He really wished she was joking but he did sort of expect it. After all, she wasn't open to this idea in the first place. And Joan Mackenzie did have a reputation for not playing well with others. He sidestepped her comments. "Anywho, team names. Ideas?"

"Name us what you will," she muttered. "But the only names I want to see on that crappy hunk of junk that is being passed off as a trophy, is our names, OK?"

"OK." His hand hovered over the sheet, scared to write anything down. "So, you want me to just put our names down? No actual name?" He started with his own, writing down the first two letters before she snatched the pen out of his hand.

"And who says you get to put your name first, mister?"

"Alphabetically speaking, it should be…"

"Sorry but…" She went to scrawl her own name before he mustered up the courage to steal the pen back. She too had only managed the first two letters of her name, next to his which she didn't have the time to score through. "Give me that pen back Arthur. Now."

The glare. The stare down that she was almost certainly going to win. Only to be interrupted by one of the last people they wanted to see.

"Hello Joan," Seth Newman muttered as he stopped at their table. "And Arthur, I see."

"Can I help you?" Joan was clearly making a concerted effort to keep things calm at least. But tension still hung heavily in the air. Arthur felt it hanging over him too.

"Nah. Not really. Just want to give you a heads up though. You two?" He wagged his finger at them. "You're going down tonight."

"Nice to know," Arthur smirked. "Thanks for stopping by, Seth. Nice to see how valuable your time is." Arthur made a point of reaching across the table to touch Joan's arm. Newman scoffed and fled, shaking his head.

"Dick."

"Isn't he just? Charming fellow." Arthur looked down at the table. "Hey where is…"

To his horror he looked down at an empty table. The name sheet was gone. It must have been collected during the very brief Newman distraction. It was, there was no must about it, since the quizmaster, one of Langley's top brass that had been forced to carry out this "team bonding event" was standing with it as he announced the teams for the night.

He rolled through the list, only hitting a roadblock when he came to their table. "Table number nine…" He squinted at the piece of paper. "Um…is that Arjo?"

Arthur raised a hand. "That's us, I guess."

Joan simply glared back.

# # #

He was right with his scouting. Henry and Newman were the ones to beat. And they were the only ones standing between them and victory.

Joan was raking in the points for team, "Arjo", although she seemed to despise that name. She covered almost all the bases – Maths, Science, Politics- whilst Arthur only aced the sports and TV questions.

A team was eliminated each round. This was round nine. The final round. Arthur and Joan versus Wilcox and Newman.

Joan was hitting that buzzer so hard, he was surprised that it didn't break. "3.14159…2…damnit, that's all I got."

"Team Cox-man," Arthur despaired at how pathetic and childish his opponents were at that name. The saddest thing was they weren't amalgamating their names like that to keep things simple. No. They actually thought it was hilarious. "Any advances on Arjo's answer?"

They both shook their heads, conceding the point. Go Joan Mackenzie and her scarily accurate knowledge of mathematics and pi. They were winning by two points.

"Final question. With the scores, 26 – 24, the last question is worth 3 points and will crown our winner."

"Well, isn't that just ideal?" Joan whispered to Arthur. "Ideal that for the past few years, there has never been bonus points like this. Talk about letting the boss win, eh?"

"You've got this." He went back to being the trainer in her corner, again rubbing the back of her neck. "You've got this."

"Ssh Arthur," she said, hitting his hands away.

"Yes ma'am."

"The Central Intelligence Agency was founded on what date?"

Joan went straight for the buzzer, the cheap plastic nearly cracking under the force. Then nothing. No sound at all. She hit again. Nothing.

Then Newman buzzed in and Henry answered. "September 18th 1947."

"Correct and we have a winner."

Anger flashed in Joan's eyes as she looked across. If looks could kill, the winners would be six feet under as of this second. "You have got to be joking me." She tested the buzzer. The buzzer that was working not less than thirty seconds ago. "The hell?" She pressed it and it worked. She slammed it with the same force and it worked. But all of a sudden, for the most important question of the night, it didn't? And not just once, but twice?

Henry and Seth were already out of their seats, patting each other on the back. Celebrating a very convenient victory.

"Hey Joan," Arthur called as she her chair scraped against the wooden floor and she made a beeline for the door. "Joan."

He jumped up to follow her, only to hear an all too smug voice call after him. "Hey Arthur. Where's your lady headed?"

Red hot anger washed over Arthur. He spun on his heels, grabbed Seth Newman by the collar of his shirt and pinned the jackass up against the wall with his one good arm and the still broken other one that hurt like hell at this action. "What the hell is your problem?"

It was clear that the scuffle had attracted the attention of everyone in the bar and it was equally as obvious that the bastard was enjoying all of this attention. "I was just asking where your lady was headed. Looks like she couldn't leave you quick enough. Boy, I know what that feels like."

"Your point?" Arthur felt a pulse beating on his forehead.

"Campbell!" Wilcox barked at him and Arthur saw out of the corner of his eye, the equally as obnoxious head of the DPD making his way across to save his little protégé. "What are you playing at? Let go of him."

Arthur ignored the order. Wilcox may be his boss for all agency matters but this was personal and he had no say.

"You still want a job in the morning?" Aw, cute. How Henry was using meaningless threats to save the sissy. Sure, he could try and fire him and sure, it would work. But not for long. Arthur was being courted for Wilcox's job one day and defending a woman's honour against a jealous little prick would not harm his name. "Let. Him. Go."

Newman smiled, taunting him and wanting Arthur to keep at it so Wilcox could stamp his little feet and whinge.

Arthur wouldn't dare give either one of them the satisfaction, so he let go of Newman.

But he made sure he pulled back his good arm, and clocked Newman in the nose as he did.

In the brief seconds that it took him to saunter out of Allan's with his head held high, he witnessed the blood that poured from Newman's, hopefully broken, nose and heard the infamous whinging of Wilcox. But nobody stopped him from leaving. Hell, he was pretty sure that one or two of the many people he knew not by name but by face, gave him the slightest of nods as to say, "Good one."

It was freezing outside and luckily, it only took him a couple of minutes to find Joan, sitting alone on a park bench, a stone's throw away from the bar. He quickly whisked off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her bare shoulders before he sat down beside her. "You OK?"

Her voice was void of any emotion. "I don't like losing."

He snorted. "You don't say."

Joan stared upwards at the night sky. "Cheating sons of bitches."

"You think?" Her rare fragility went beyond cheap trophies and bragging rights no one cared about. He tried to play it light and not push her any further in case she shattered. "So no more quiz nights?"

"You can say that again," she muttered.

"So, no more quiz nights?" He smiled right until she playfully hit his arm. His bad arm at that too and although he tried to mask his discomfort she still caught it.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's fine, really."

"No, it's not," she sighed as she fidgeted. "No, it's not. I just…" She tailed off into a dead end.

"We were cheated tonight. Why don't we take comfort in the fact that the only way that they could beat our superior minds is by resorting to such despicable actions."

"Let's." She nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Arthur. Sorry that…you got dragged into this mess. You know…with Seth."

"It's not your fault," he tried to reason but she was already shaking her head at the second word. But she said nothing to counter the argument. Yet that simple gesture made Arthur think that now would be the best time, if there ever was one, to bring up the subject. "Look, Joan, I know it is none of my business, so you can tell me to butt out if you want. But what-."

"Happened with me and Seth?"

He nodded, yes and waited for her to proceed.

"You know what? You've been nothing but honest with me about your past, so I owe it to you to explain." She paused before she turned to look into his eyes. "What happened between me and Seth? You happened."

He was powerless to do nothing but smile.

"You showed up in my life and you…made me want more than whatever you could class a meaningless relationship based on…well, to put it frankly? You made me want a proper relationship."

He took her hand. "I want that too."

"Seth…that stupid bastard didn't realise that what we had, which I promise you was nothing more than a few hook-ups, wasn't what I wanted. Maybe, it was what he wanted but I didn't. Because this new…mysterious, handsome and charming man had just walked into my life and I wanted him."

He squeezed her hand and enjoyed the simple action of staring into her eyes, letting his mind wander off into the future where she'd still be by his side. He let the moment, their moment, come to the most natural of stopping points before he added, with a grin on his face, "For clarification, you were talking about me, right?"

His grin was infectious. "Yes, you fool. You."

"Good, good. Because I was starting to wonder where I could get my hands on such a fine sounding man. Where did you get yours?"

"I think the stars gave me him. Its destiny, they call it, right?"

"Right," he smiled back, realising how she'd opened up more in these past three minutes than she had in these past three weeks. "It's destiny alright."

"Thought so. You're such a lucky bastard, eh?"

"Sure as hell I am." With her by his side, how else could he feel?

"Yeah. Lucky destiny was looking out for you that day we first met. You know…when I saved your life?"

He laughed. "Still on that, yeah?" He let her hand go, only to show her his wounds like a child proud of their latest scab. "See that?" He held up his grazed knuckles.

She stole his hand again, this time to gently examine his injuries. "The hell did you do?"

"Punched Seth Newman." He was right. He did feel like a proud little child. "I think he's now got a broken nose for running his mouth."

Joan brought his hand up to her lips. "Add perfect gentleman to your list of qualities."

"How long is that list?"

She shrugged. "That's classified. Now," still holding onto his hand, she stood up and stood tall over him.

"Where are we going?"

She tugged on him gently to pull him to his feet. "Tonight feels right." She bit down on her lip. "You coming or what?"

# # #

The morning felt just like the night. Perfect.

His arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her close to his warm chest, as she woke. A smile had crossed her lips as she remembered, in perfect detail, last night. How yesterday it had been the last thing on her mind. Now, this morning, it was the only thing on her mind.

Careful not to wake him, she twisted around, to face him and she spent a good amount of time watching him sleep. The way his chest steadily went up and down was memorising. She could watch him sleep all day long if she had the opportunity.

He soon began to stir. She found it cute how his gentle snoring subsided as he begun to regain more and more consciousness, his eyelids fluttering until they fully opened, those familiar dark pools of eyes that she'd lost herself in on more than one occasion, meeting hers. "Good morning," she murmured, resting her head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

"Isn't it just?" His hand danced down her bare back, making her skin tingle. "So…that happened."

"It did."

"And…"

"And?"

"Thoughts?"

"Thoughts?" She traced a line down his torso with a finger. "Do you want a scorecard?"

"Well…" His morning laugh was even cuter than his usual laugh. She never thought that was possible.

"I'm sorry but I left my pen and paper at home. Sorry pal, but this is what happens when you choose your place over mine."

"Hey, I was letting you lead the way."

"You sure did." She smiled and craned her neck up to look at him. "Thank you, Arthur."

He pulled her closer to him. "And thank you too."

Another few minutes passed, with nothing but the sound of their steady breathing filling the air. It was a silence but it was the most comfortable silence that existed. Then Joan broke it by laughing. "Can't believe you punched that asshole."

He snorted. "I can't either…wonder if he'll be in today?"

"Oh work…" She sighed. For once she actually wouldn't mind calling in sick. She did have a lot of downtime to take. "Do we have to?"

"Yeah," he nuzzled into her neck. "I wouldn't mind calling it a miss either. That is…only if you're up to it."

"You wanna?" She frowned.

"If I could spend it with you…here…I'm game." He reached over for the phone on his bedside table. "You got your phone on you?"

"Yeah, it should be…" She stopped herself by smiling, remembering how her cell phone was clipped onto the belt of her jeans. The jeans that were laying in a crumpled heap in Arthur's living room. She smiled just by remembering last night.

Pulling a sickie was not the right term. After all, they were gonna spend the day in bed.

Except Joan doubted that resting was on the agenda.


	9. Chapter 9

Letter

He walked out of Wilcox's office that morning, his first morning back since the Newman incident, with his head held high. Sure, he could get his ass handed to him at the official disciplinary hearing later in the afternoon. Sure, he could get his ass kicked out of the building if worst came to worst. But he had no shame about his actions the other night. Newman had it coming.

Arthur couldn't just sit back and let that dick talk smack about his lady. Sure, Joan could sort Newman out in her own right – give her a dark alley with no witnesses and she would. But what sort of gentleman would Arthur be if he didn't do anything?

Exactly. None. She deserved to be happy and he was aiming to make her happy at all costs. Even when it came to breaking people's noses.

But the worst part of it all? The biggest injustice of this whole mess?

That windbag Wilcox had ordered him not to talk to a certain blonde-haired beauty until after that disciplinary or face immediate consequences.

Now, normally Arthur would go out of his way to test that bastard's resolve. Wilcox was probably just all talk. But Arthur didn't want to take that chance. He wasn't scared about losing his job. No. He was scared of losing the opportunity to see Joan Mackenzie every day when he walked into the bullpen.

He didn't want to lose the highlight of his day.

Still, there was no way that he could just sit in the same room as her and not do a thing about it. That would be torture.

_Mackenzie,_

_Under doctor's orders, a certain little suck-up won't be showing his sorry face around here for the next two weeks. You can forgive me when I say that I'm not sorry for that._

_Under the orders of a certain rat-bastard, I'm not allowed to talk to you, until this whole, silly matter is sorted. For that, I am incredibly sorry. Sorry that we're having to let that dictator get his way. It's not worth the risk. I don't wanna risk losing the chance to see you every single morning._

_Sometimes, I feel as if you're the only reason I want to come to work in this bureaucratic hellhole. I guess if Wilcox is the devil, you must be an angel._

_Hey, cheesy, I know. But admit it – you're smiling as you read this, aren't you?_

_It's the littlest things, don't you think? Sitting here, watching you…all your little quirks. And people are starting to wonder why my work rate has been slipping the past few weeks? You're a bad influence, Mackenzie. You make a man do bad things…_

_So, you got any plans for tonight? Another quiz-night? Maybe a gentle evening bike trek? I'm pretty sure that the multiplex is now showing that new flick about love that is meant to be between a milkman and a young widow…not that you're that type of girl. Of course not. Joan Mackenzie is a badass, not a romantic at heart._

_You know where I am,_

_Wheels,_

_x_

"Hey Taylor…" Arthur called to catch the attention of the DPD's newest and very eager rookie. "Could you possibly do me a favour and hand this to the pretty lady over there?"

Taylor Matchett glanced over at Joan. "Agent Mackenzie, yeah?"

Arthur nodded. "Please. She'll know who it's from. Thank you."

He watched her face light up as she unfolded the piece of paper then look over in his direction. He didn't care if anyone was watching when he winked at her from across the bullpen. Happy, he set back to focus on the stack of paperwork in front of him. He was more than content to at least try and get on with his work after seeing her face light up the way that it did.

How Joan just happened to walk past him five minutes later, brushing his cheek with her hand as she dropped a folded piece of paper onto his lap, without saying a word was just an added bonus.

_Wheels, huh? Glad to see that it's catching on._

_Shame about ass-kisser and shame about you. Us._

_But seriously, Wheels? I'm a bad influence? I hadn't used a sick day in my entire career up until yesterday…and you came along. Maybe we should be thankful that there is quite a distance between our desks because I'm not so sure that I could keep my hands to myself if I was any closer._

_Oh, and by the way? The way I just brushed your cheek? Consider that me being a professional in the workplace. I'll show you what I really meant by that real soon. And yep. You'll know what I mean._

_Quirks? I really interested to know what you mean by that one. Go on, enlighten me._

_And tonight? I believe a handsome fellow is courting me. For once, I'll leave the details up to him._

_Mackenzie,_

_xo_

Arthur failed miserably at hiding the wicked smile that crossed his lips. He reached for his pen and pulled a fresh sheet from his refill pad.

_Mackenzie,_

_Let me enlighten you._

_The way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you answer the phone_

_That little smirk of satisfaction when you take the first sip of your coffee every morning_

_The way you always sneak a glance over in my direction when you think I'm not looking – newsflash. I am._

_And all of the above? Adorable. Completely and utterly adorable. When you first showed up in my life, I thought you were this scary gal with a heart of stone…not a heart of pure gold. And for that, I am ever thankful._

_There, consider yourself enlightened._

_Wheels_

_x_

Again, as if by the most remarkable coincidence, the keen young rookie happened to pass by Arthur's desk at exactly the right time. And again, was quick to obey.

Joan's reply came after seven minutes and with the sweetest of smiles as she placed the letter into his waiting hand. Her finger tickled his neck as she smoothly sauntered past in her almost trademark six-inch heels

_Wheels,_

_Boy, am I enlightened. Don't think that you don't have your own little quirks…_

_Mackenzie,_

_Xo_

Arthur shook his head. Man, how that woman could drive him crazy in so many ways.

_And what do you mean by that, my sweet, beautiful lady?_

_x_

He looked up. "Taylor…could you be a lad?" He waved the piece of paper at the young man, whose enthusiasm was drying up quicker than a puddle in a desert. Nevertheless, he got up and duly completed the task.

He watched her shake her head at the note and write down her response. Damn, was he memorised by even the slightest of things that the girl did.

She grinned at him, slid the note across his desk and quickly tottered back to her desk, smiling at Henry Wilcox who was watching with narrowed, judgemental eyes from his office. Oh, how he wished he could do something but for what? Arthur wasn't talking to Joan after all.

_Flattery will get you nowhere, my good man. A girl needs to have her secrets._

_BTW- You still haven't told me what you've got in mind tonight._

_Xo_

He quickly scrawled his response, grabbed his answer and dropped it onto her desk as he passed to go and grab himself a coffee.

_A girl can have her secrets and a guy can have his. You'll find out tonight._

_Until then, wish me luck._

_Wheels,_

_X_

He'd look forward to tonight. He wouldn't need to use any words to express how he felt about her.

That was lucky. Because there wasn't enough words to even start to begin to express how he felt about Joan Mackenzie.


	10. Chapter 10

Night-In

"So, how did it go?"

Arthur was surprised to find Joan sitting on a bench just outside the conference suite on the second floor. But it was a pleasant surprise and he welcomed her into his arms.

"Brilliant," he said with a smile as he kissed her cheek. "Absolutely brilliant."

"You know, for a man just coming out of a disciplinary hearing, you seem really chipper," she broke away from the hug and took his hand as they began to walk down the corridor. "And, man, that didn't half drag on. I was gonna go home but I heard that you were still in there, so I decided to wait."

That was really sweet. And it just made the news that he was about to deliver even sweeter as she was going to be the first one he was going to tell. "That meeting wasn't about what happened with Seth. I mean, it was to some extent, and yes, I did get told off but…" He stretched out the word as he spun around to face her. "Wilcox is getting the DCS job."

"And that makes you happy?"

"You bet, honey. Because I've just been offered his old job."

Her face lit up. "Really? Arthur…." Again she hugged him, nearly taking him off his feet with the force. "God, you silly man. I was scared that you were gonna end up losing your job, never mind getting offered a new one."

He laughed but gave her an equally as tight hug back in return. He didn't care that people were looking and he was sure that she didn't either.

"Now," she said as she pulled back, slowly composing herself. It made him smile how made up and giddy she was for him. "Now, now, now." She pulled on his tie, straightening the knot. "This calls for a celebration, don't you think?"

"Hey, I thought you were leaving things up to me tonight?"

She stuck out her bottom lip, held her palms up in defence. "You're right. Totally right. I'm backing off. I won't interfere, it's your call."

He smiled. "Good." He knew how that little control freak that ran around her mind was eating away at her, wanting to burst out into a stream of crazy, neurotises.

"So, Arthur Campbell, the future head of the DPD…got any grand plans for tonight?"

He nodded. "That I do, Mackenzie."

"So, this how it's gonna be from now on? You giving me the orders like that? Calling me Mackenzie when you're throwing the metaphorical book at me?"

His smile grew wider. Like he could ever get tough with that girl? She scared him as much as she intrigued him. "You'll just have to wait and see, I'm afraid." He liked the thrill that playing along with her flirting gave him and he liked how it always made him want more. Way more. Damn, she was good at this game.

"Don't make me wait too long," she said as she took a step forward. "Sir," she added, whispering into his air, her breath hot against his skin.

Damn, she was too good.

Arthur shook his head and took her arm. "You're coming with me, Agent Mackenzie. We've got matters we need to address elsewhere."

# # #

Her back collided against the back of her front door. Hard but the force of the impact sizzled away, as the building passion finally began to course through her veins.

No words needed.

She was willing to submit to him, letting him shower the short distance between her jawline and collarbone, with carefully planted kisses. He took his time with the last, his eyes drawn to her skin before they slowly wandered up to meet her own.

She took the lead, crashing her lips into his, the impact nearly toppling both of them. It's a struggle, a fight to take and keep the lead in this dance but they both want the same. They want nothing but each other.

She forces him to keep taking steps backwards as he skims her waist with his hands whilst she fumbles with his tie, not wanting their earlier watered down effort in the office. No. She hooks his tie off and drapes it around her own neck as she moves to his shirt and begins to fumble with the buttons.

The back of his legs buckle as he hits the back of a couch and he goes over the top, dragging her with him. She lands on top of him and smiles. "I just realised that I never actually said congratulations."

He grinned back at her. "It's OK; I kinda inferred it from the context."

"Good, good." She could feel his heart going ten to the dozen under his half-buttoned shirt. She smiled as she cuddled into him. "I'm proud of you, Arthur. I really am."

He cuddled her back, resting his chin on the top of her head. "That really means a lot to me. But…you aware that I will be your superior, right?"

"Oh, I am aware." And although she would never admit it, she found that fact kinda hot. There was always something so…so forbidden about dating your boss. Something that made it even more difficult to toe that line between a professional and personal relationship.

She supressed a laugh as she tried to ignore that dirty thought that crossed her mind about him having to discipline her.

"What's so funny?"

She hadn't even realised that a chuckle had escaped her. "Nothing, Arthur. Nothing." She said with a coy smile. She quickly changed that subject. "So…these are your big plans for tonight? Staying at mine?"

"Not good enough for you, Mackenzie?"

"No…I'm not complaining. I'm spending this evening with you. I've got no complaints." God, did she love the cologne he had on today. "It's just that I thought, you know, with you as the new head of the DPD, you'd wanna celebrate."

He stroked her cheek. "I'm a lucky guy already, Joan. I already had you before this promotion. I should be celebrating that every day."

Why was this man such a cutie? She asked herself that question every single day.

"But, if you wanna do something…why don't we?"

She liked where this was headed. "What do you have in mind…sir?"

He arched one of his famous thick brows at the address. "Oh, I like that. I like that very much, Mackenzie."

She really did love it when he called her that. "It's your evening; it's up to you what we do. So…can you hurry up and decide please?"

Arthur bit down on his lip as he decided. "Why don't we do something different? Something fun? You know…play a game or something?"

She patted his chest with a hand. "Why do I get the feeling that you're gonna suggest something like strip poker?"

"Me? How very dare you insult me with such a suggestion…"

"Then what were you thinking of?" Truth be told, she had no issues with strip poker herself. She just didn't want to feel sorry for him when she whipped his ass and he was left naked in her house without any heating on.

He sat up. "Truth or dare."

# # #

It was Joan's turn to spin the bottle of rose that they had polished off less than thirty minutes ago. The bottle landed on him. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth." He replied. The game should really have been called truth or truth because neither had opted for a dare in the game. It was a little ironic for two spies to be this open with one another.

The questions were gradually getting deeper and deeper. And the answers were refreshingly honest.

"What's your biggest fear?" She asked.

Arthur wasted no time in answering and he looked her directly in the eye. "Losing those I care about."

Silence fell between them. A little uncomfortable but it was down to the realisation that suddenly hit both of them what that actually meant.

He knew what he meant. He was scared of losing her. And, though he'd never thought he'd ever admit it, he just had. And she was too smart not to know that he meant her. But so what if he was putting it out there? They hadn't been together longer than two months but he struggled to remember what his life was like before her.

And he didn't want to go back to those dark times.

"My turn," he said as he reached over for the bottle. They'd both mastered the art of expertly making sure the bottle pointed at each other when they spun it. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

For some reason, it was the only question that sprung to his mind. "When was the last time you felt helpless?"

"I-I…" Joan stuttered. Something felt wrong. "I-I…I can't do this." She pushed herself to her feet and dashed off to the bathroom.

He was sure that he saw her wiping her eyes as she made her quick escape as he called after her. "Joan!"


	11. Chapter 11

Confession

He felt like he should just leave. She'd had locked herself in the bathroom for close to twenty minutes now, not even replying when he called out to her.

"Honey…I'm sorry if it was something that I said," he said, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was scared that it was something that he had said. This was what he had always been scared of. Saying the wrong thing and scaring her off. "Please Joan." He knew that he sounded desperate.

It was because he was.

"Joan…" Arthur traced a panel on the wooden bathroom door with a finger. He was sitting, legs crossed outside as he waited. "Please, honey. If you come out…I'll…I'll let you call me wheels?"

He heard what sounded like a faint chuckle. He smiled. He was getting somewhere.

"Honey, I broke some punk's nose for you…if that doesn't make you open the door then I don't know what will."

It was definitely a chuckle this time. Weak and a little pained but a chuckle nonetheless. "Some 'punk'? Oh boy…"

It felt like someone had punched him in the heart as he heard how raw her voice was. So vulnerable. This wasn't Joan Mackenzie, the CIA operative. This was just Joan Mackenzie.

"Can you open the door for me? Please?"

Arthur expected his request to fall on deaf ears. But to his surprise, he heard the scratch of the lock.

"Hey…" He pushed himself to his feet as she opened the door. There was a lump in his throat as he saw her red eyes and she pulled him into a tight hug. "Hey, hey…I'm here. Don't worry."

"God…" She muttered into his shoulder. "God, I'm sorry."

"Hey," he gently pulled her away from him, so he could look into her watery eyes. "You've got nothing to apologise for. Hell, I don't even know what I was apologising for." He wiped away a tear on her cheek with his thumb.

"No, I'm just sorry for being such a mess. Sorry that you have to see me like this."

He was sorry too for that reason. Because it broke his heart to see such a strong woman crumble the way she just did. He was keen to move on. "Let's do something different. No more truth or dare, no more alcohol, no more-."

"Arthur please," she took his hands. "I can't not say anything. We're both spies. If we can't be honest with the people we care about, then who can we be honest with?"

_People we care about._ Those words hit him hard and he had barely heard the rest of her sentence. He squeezed her hand, prompting her to proceed. He wanted to know. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and he wanted things to last. Honesty was vital in the world that they lived in.

"I…I…" Her voice kept catching, tears springing to her eyes. She took a deep breath. "I think this is it, Arthur…"

What? He blinked once, twice…so many times before he spoke. "What's it? Honey, if it's something that I've done-."

"No," she cut in, a smile appearing on her face. "No…I think this is it. I think that, what we have? I think this is the real thing."

His heart quickly returned to beating at a normal pace. Relieved. The fear that she was going to leave him rapidly disappearing. Her smile was infectious. Her feelings mutual. "I-I…" For some reason, he didn't have the courage to utter those three words yet – even if they were the truest words he would ever say in his life. Instead, he settled for the same five words she'd opted for. "I think this is real too." He sighed as he embraced her. "God Mackenzie…don't you dare do that to me again."

"Do what?" If there weren't tears still escaping from her eyes, he'd try a light-hearted comment. Again, he was fearful that it wouldn't be appropriate. That split second when he thought he had lost her had scared him so much. Losing her for good would kill him.

He just couldn't imagine his life without her.

"I thought you were going to go to leave me," he said with a weak laugh. "I thought I had done something wrong."

Her laugh was just as weak but he noted how her grip around him was tight, like she never wanted to let go. "No…but let's face it. If that were to happen, it'd probably be your fault." The armour was coming back up.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure that I don't do anything wrong, huh?"

"You better because," she bit down on her lip as she let go and looked him straight in the eye. "Because, my heart wants this…I want this…I want you, Arthur Campbell. So, promise me this. Don't screw this up."

He grinned. She had said so much tonight that those three words could wait. She had said so much more. "I promise."

"Good." She still had his tie hanging around her neck and she only seemed to realise it at that moment. She hooked it around his own neck and pulled him closer to her. "If I remember correctly…sir," she added with a wink. It warmed his heart that she was quickly losing that layer of vulnerability that pained her just as much as it pained him. "You asked me when was the last time I felt helpless, yes?"

He shook his head. "Honey, we don't have to continue this game anymore if you-."

"No, no, no," she placed a finger on his lips. "You answered so it's only fair."

He nodded. He wasn't going to argue with her…even if he was soon to be her boss. Because you just didn't argue with Joan Mackenzie.

"Well, there is no "last time"."

Again he shook his head. This time due to the way in which only she could frustrate him. "Now play nice, if you gonna play this game."

"Hey, wheels. Let me finish." Again, no arguments. "There is no last time because I feel helpless every time I see you."

Arthur bit down on his lip but he failed to supress the smile that was quickly spreading on his lips. Was she intentionally trying to be that cute or did it just come naturally? Scooping her up in his arms, he was determined to make the most of the rest of their night-in.

And he had the perfect lady to spend it with.


	12. Chapter 12

Three Words

Arthur hadn't stayed the night that she had thrown her heart out there. The charmer probably felt like he would have been taking advantage of her emotional state that night. So many guys wouldn't have been that thoughtful.

Arthur Campbell wasn't just another guy. He was that special someone that came along only once in a lifetime.

And she was thankful that that night had went no further than kissing and cuddling on the sofa. She didn't need anything more than that. He was enough. Just spending time with that man made her feel happy and lucky that he had wondered into the trajectory of her life.

Still, the second after she had kissed him goodnight and closed the door behind him, was the second it had all sunk in.

What she had said.

Hell, what he had said that had made that tidal wave of realisation crash down on her and nearly knock her sideways. Things had happened so quickly between them, that spark igniting the minute they had locked eyes. There was never any time for her to actually really stop and think and consider just how much he meant to her.

Truth be told, there probably would never be enough time ever to do just that – he just meant that much. Yet, the time she had taken to herself, those ten, fifteen minutes alone in the bathroom that night…listening to his desperate and worried pleas echo from outside…that was the night when she had finally discovered what love really meant.

Her head and her heart were finally agreeing on something for once. She loved him.

She loved that handsome, funny, cute, adorable and downright genuine and good man that was Arthur Campbell. And she loved how easily she could picture the rest of her life with him by her side. Their first house, their first dance, their first child. There was so much that she was already planning out with the man who made her feel helpless each and every time that she saw him.

God, she even loved how he was making her feel like this pathetic teenage girl who mapped out the rest of their life with their Prince Charming.

Only she actually now could. She had her very own Prince Charming.

The second he had left that night, she let her walls slip. Down and completely down. He'd been doing this to her since their first date and she was welcoming it. Years had she been building that wall, brick by brick, always planning to be a career girl and that tough exterior was going to ensure that. Arthur was changing that, whether he knew it or not. Now, there was more to her life that the Agency and a decent pay check. There was Arthur Campbell and he was priceless.

Would Joan Mackenzie ever admit that she cried that night once he left? No. But would Joan Mackenzie ever admit that she had never felt so sure of anything in her life once he had left? Yeah, she would.

Waking up alone in bed that morning, her mind was clear. Certain and content. Overjoyed actually but she wasn't sure that her cat would revel in her newfound happiness in quite the same way. She had had a good sleep and a good breakfast and set off for Langley, ready to take that next step in her and Arthur's relationship.

Her smile somehow manage to widen even more when she saw how he watched her with memorised eyes as she walked into the bullpen. He rose to meet her as she strode over to his desk. "Good morning, Arthur."

"Morning honey." He brushed her arm with his hand. "How are you?"

She knew that her sweetheart of a man was referring to those tears she had let slide in front of him even though he knew for absolute certain she was fine afterwards. He cared and it was another reason why she loved him. "Never better, thank you sweetie."

"I'm glad." And he was, genuinely.

"Yeah and I'm glad too. For finding the most perfect gentleman that I could."

"Oh, stop," he waved a hand as he grinned at her. "I'm blushing here."

"Well you shouldn't. Because it is the God's honest truth and I know I'm not much of a believer but, if there is a God? I thank him for you, Arthur."

The light-heartedness quickly began to fade from his face as he realised that this conversation was one of the most real, serious and honest talks that they had ever had as a couple. And probably would ever have. It felt like the sequel to last night, regardless of the fact that they had covered a lot of ground that they didn't plan to. But this had been planned, at least in her own mind and it needed to be said. And for once, she didn't care if people around listened in or were interested. Because she didn't care about them. She only cared about him.

"I love you, Arthur," she said with a slight catch in her voice. "And I have never felt this way about one person in my entire life. Until you came along."

His bottom lip had the slightest of trembles as he reached out to take her hand. "I love you too. And I have for a long, long time."

She smiled, her smile acting as an instinctive barrier to defend herself from the emotion that was hitting her. Never, had she ever envisaged saying those three words for the first time in such an open and public setting. But never had she ever felt like this and would have ever anticipated the need to share her joy with him. It had to be said. He had to know.

She took his hand in full view. She wanted everyone to know. "We're gonna have to file a close and continuing."

"Right now?" He whined but in a playful fashion as she began to lead him to that windbag Wilcox's office.

"Yes Arthur. Because we're gonna make this thing official."

"Wasn't breaking Newman's nose official enough for you?" He grinned.

"Perhaps…" Boy, did she think it was funny that he thought he was gonna have a say in their relationship. Of course, he was…but it was always fun to mess with him. Always.

"So what? You wanna make this properly official so you can show the world your super awesome boyfriend whom you're so madly and deeply in love with?"

She gave him her patented glare before she broke into a smile. Sometimes it was scary just how accurate he could be.

That was exactly what she wanted to do.


	13. Chapter 13

First Mission

In the next three months that followed those three words, things changed. Fall shifted into winter and Christmas was just around the corner. Arthur had become the head of the DPD, a smooth transition as Henry Wilcox stepped up to DCS. Yet, of all the things that had changed, there was one thing that hadn't. How Joan felt about the man in her life.

After all, their relationship wasn't built on lust. It was built on love and love was a powerful thing.

It made her happy. He made her happy. He was the reason why she walked along the corridors of Langley with a smile on her face.

Of course there was always that one person that wanted and would always attempt to try to ruin her newfound happiness.

"Hey Joan," that one person was a bitter bastard that went by the name of Seth Newman. "Care to shed some light on the talk that's floating around this place?"

As much as that man gave her the urge to shower and scrub his stink off of her, she wasn't gonna allow his self-centred ways influence her. Not in the slightest. They'd never be friends, and never did she want to be, but at the end of the day, there were supposedly on the same team, fighting the same cause. She could at least try to be the bigger person and try to keep things amicable. "I cannot because I do not know what you are talking about. Care to share or can I just get on with my day?"

He laughed. "So your boyfriend's not told you yet?" She noted how he spat out Arthur's title with thinly veiled disgust. So much for amicable. The man was a child.

"No…I'm just on my way to see him. Why?" Arthur had summoned her for a meeting, a definite meeting not one of their phony excuses that they used to draw the blinds and lock his office door to carry out their own business. But apart from that, he had been pretty vague on why he wanted to see her. "C'mon Seth. I've got people to see, not time to waste talking, or not really talking in this instance."

He frowned and she noticed for the first time, how his nose was slightly crooked. A permanent reminder of what being a jerk led to. "You're getting courted for a big assignment. Guess screwing the boss has its perks, huh?"

Even if the third floor hallway wasn't deserted, she still would have slammed him up against the wall after that comment had come out of his sad little mouth. An arm threatening to crush his larynx pinned him in place. "Care to say that again?"

His face was beginning to crimson, his hands clawing at her vice grip. "Tell me it isn't true, huh?"

His sharp nails cut into the flesh of her arm, sharp little stings but she took comfort in that fact that he was hurting a hell of a lot more than her at this precise moment. He'd have ten seconds before he'd be properly struggling to breathe. Another ten after that and he'd lose consciousness. If she kept up at it, which she so wanted to do, she could kill him in less than a minute.

So much for amicable.

"You know that isn't true, right?"

"Sure sure…keep telling yourself…that," Seth managed to mutter.

"Delusion and jealously are not attractive qualities, you know that?"

A snigger cost him a few seconds of precious breath. "And selling your body…is?"

She shook her head and let go of the jackass who slipped down the marble coated wall and landed hard on his ass. "Grow up."

She didn't once look back as she set off down the hallway, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The man she was about to meet was a real man. Her man. Someone who knew all about decency and care and love. Seth Newman could only wish to be a third of that man that Arthur Campbell was.

# # #

"Tonight?"

For all he loved the perks that his new job offered him, he hated how it always had the potential to drive a wedge between him and the woman he loved. Joan Mackenzie didn't take orders well. She had her ways and she was well and truly stuck in them. Her stubbornness was something that he either found unbelievably cute or unbelievably frustrating, never something in between. Today it was the former. Especially when he knew that her only opposition to the sudden assignment that he was handing her was down to the fact that it scuppered their date night. "Sorry, honey. Wilcox wanted this made a priority and I wanted my best operative on this."

"Yeah, I know it," he loved her complete and utter lack of modesty. She knew damn well that she was good at what she did. And that was why she was so darn good at it. "It's just a little short notice, don't you think?"

"Nemeth is a high level asset…we couldn't just sit back and wait. We need this son of a bitch neutralised."

She sighed, slumping down into his leather chair. A move that only she could get away with. "I get it…I know. It's just…it's been a long week. I was really looking forward to tonight. And the weekend. Our weekend."

Arthur grimaced. They'd spent the past week devising how to spend the last weekend before Christmas with an immaculate level of detail. Last minute shopping, a quick trip to the ice rink and a table was booked for tonight to kick the weekend off, at their favourite Italian restaurant. He was never much one to be overwhelmed by the festive spirit but she was. And this year, he felt like he had every reason to celebrate. "I'm sorry honey; I will make this up to you, somehow. I promise."

She kicked her legs at the air as she gently swayed from side to side. "Yeah, yeah…" Her voice was distant.

"How about we do for next weekend, instead? For New Year's, instead of Christmas?"

"Suppose," she muttered. "But it's not the same…it's not Christmas."

He suppressed a sigh, knowing that a victory was never going to appear on the horizon. Joan Mackenzie was a big kid at Christmas and here he was as the Grinch. He just wanted to make her happy, to see a smile on her pretty face. Yet, he was sucking all the Christmas spirit dry. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I really am. If you don't want this case, I won't give you it."

"Yeah, but you'd still be working this weekend, right?" She looked up to him with wide eyes. The infamous puppy dog eyes that made him want to drop everything for her. But beside the big fancy office his promotion gave him, it also gave him a huge responsibility.

"Yeah," he said softly. "This was the last thing that I wanted to happen, I swear. I'm sorry, Joan. For ruining everything."

"It's not your fault."

"I'll make this up to you. I promise." He took both her hands and pulled up and into an embrace. "I'll pull some strings, OK? The second you get back, I'm all yours, deal?"

"Deal."

He tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "It's only for a few days and I'll call you when I can. I know it's not the same but at least it's something, right?"

"Yeah," she pulled him even closer and buried her face into his chest and said nothing for a good few moments before she laughed softly. "I nearly strangled Seth today."

"That's my girl." He smiled and kissed the top of her head, the combination of the sweet scent of her perfume and the way she was holding onto him, was starting to give the new DPD head very unprofessional thoughts. Like she always did. Arthur too laughed as he supressed those particular ideas. "But if one day you do decide to top him off, can you at least wait until you're off the premises? Else I'll have a heck of a lot of forms to fill in."

# # #

Isaac Nemeth. Target codename: stalker. Ironic, when she actually felt like the stalker in this instance.

She had skimmed the brief before she had left. She knew enough about this guy already, to last a lifetime. Nemeth was a wanted man in all but one continent and his crimes would keep him in a cell until the next Ice Age. Arms dealing, first degree murder, sporadic acts of terrorism. It'd be easier to list the crimes he hadn't committed. Never named in public print and for good reason. If he were front page news, people wouldn't leave their homes.

In short this guy was a big deal. Nailing him would increase her stock in the agency tenfold. Arthur was giving her a heck of an opportunity. She had never doubted the trust they had in each other and this was just another example of how much he trusted her – after all working with the almost non-existent idea that she'd fail, it would be his choice of operative that would be scrutinized not her actions.

But let's be realistic. There was no chance in hell that she was going to fluff this.

Tailing the enemy was the easy bit. Intel suggested Nemeth was meeting a contact tomorrow, early morning. Predictably, he took his own precautions, scouting out an old warehouse near the docks. She kept a steady distance, enough to see the hulking six-four frame of the Texan as no more than a bland figure.

She returned to her cheap hotel room just after ten, exhausted yet a little excited as she reached for the phone, eager to take up her offer of hearing Arthur's voice. A knock at the door stopped her from keying in his number.

She flung open the door with a sigh and a frown, only to be handed the most unexpected and wonderful gift of them all. "Arthur?" She tried to maintain her composure but failed miserably, grinning from ear to ear. "What are you doing here?"

"I felt kinda bad for flaking out on our plans. So…as the boss, I made an executive decision to join you on this assignment."

God, how she loved his new level of authority. She threw himself at him at such force, he nearly toppled backwards. "Good call."

"The right call." He hugged her tightly back. "Because I was starting to feel like an ass."

"I was starting to think you were one," she mumbled into his shoulder. "Wait a second. You were tailing me, weren't you?"

"You knew?"

"I thought someone was." Then she scoffed. "Hey, I told you. I'm good."

"And I'm not?"

"Well…"

"I'd watch your tone there, missy."

"Or what?"

"Really? You really wanna go there?"

She bit down on her lip. "Yep."

"Have it your way, Mackenzie," he muttered before a strong arm wrapped around her waist and hoisted her off her feet. "I'd show me a little more respect," he said with a wicked grin. She had seen that look flash upon his face earlier that day in his office.

"Hey, where are we going?" She asked as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her out of the small hotel room.

"The executive suite in the hotel down the road. And since I'm the boss, my decision is final, ok?"

She gave up fighting. She was not going to complain.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fight**

Terrorists were the most inconsiderate sons of bitches around. Not only were they intent on causing mass destruction and slaughtering innocent people, Isaac Nemeth was also the reason why Joan had to somehow pry herself off her boyfriend and get ready for the mission.

The hotel he'd taken her to, just down the road from the cheap one the agency had initially put her up in, was so much nicer and much more expensive. But she wasn't that shallow. Money didn't impress her. It was the little personal and priceless touches that Arthur had done all by himself. A bottle of her favourite wine, flickering candles and rose petals forming a trail from the front door to the bed.

Some could call it clichéd or overdone or even old fashioned. She called it romantic. No guy had ever put as much effort into their relationship with her as Arthur. And it wasn't as if he was going out of his way to do it. He was just that sweet and rare sort of guy.

"Good morning," he said as he wrapped his arms around her after he emerged from the shower in nothing but a bathrobe. "God, you waste no time in getting ready, do you?"

"Preparation is everything," she twisted her head around to kiss him. "I just want to get this over and done with."

"Me too. The sooner this is over, the sooner you are all mine for the rest of the weekend."

"Yep." That was exactly her thinking for why she wanted Nemeth taken down as soon as possible. Never mind national security. Time with her man was much more important than the safety of the country. "And boy, will you all be mine."

"Glad to hear it. You ready to kick some scumbag ass?"

"Born ready." The orders were to take Nemeth down. No questions asked. She'd shoot to kill if she had to. But Nemeth wasn't stupid and he wasn't an easy target. "He's meeting his contact at nine fifteen at that old warehouse down by the former industrial estate. But since you followed me, you know that, eh?"

"Yep." He let go of her and headed to grab his clothes from the armchair. "You said nine fifteen, right?" He checked his watch.

"Yeah…" She turned around to face him. He was pulling on a shirt. "Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"Um…getting changed? You know when you put on clothes? It's the opposite of when you rip them off me."

"I wouldn't get smart with me, pal," she snapped. "You're not coming with me."

He frowned. "I think you will find that I am. I'm the boss therefore I have the final say, OK?"

"Yeah…no. That's not what's going to happen. You've abused your power to tag along on this mission. You don't feature in my plans for it, ok?" As much as she loved him, she had a job to do. Surely he of all people would understand.

"I'm not letting you do this alone. It's too risky." His concern was genuine but it was also not wanted. This was one of the things that she didn't need. Personal feelings to interfere with professional feelings. It made things more difficult than they had to be.

"Arthur, sweetie, I know you care about me-."

"Damn right I do."

"And I care about you. But for God's sake, stay here and let me deal with Nemeth. That was the original plan and I'm sticking with it. I know what I'm gonna do and I'm gonna do it alone."

"It's better with two people. We can go in from two angles…catch the bastard off guard."

"No Arthur." She took his hands and squeezed them. "Please. For me…just listen to me. Let me do this."

He stared into her eyes. "You're being stubborn."

She hated that particular adjective that had dogged her for most of her life. "And you're being stupid."

"Joan," his voice raised a few notches. This was it, she thought. This was their first proper argument. "Don't do this."

"No Arthur, I've gotta do this." And she was a little angry with him. He just wasn't listening. "Alone."

"No."

She sighed. "It's downright dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt if you don't have to."

"And you think that I want you to get hurt?" His voice was loud and painfully honest. "You silly woman, I love you. I'd do anything for you even if it means that I'll get hurt."

"You really want to start this? First of all, all of our plans fall through because of this damned mission and now you want to start an argument over it? Get a grip, Arthur. I can do this; this is why you picked me in the first place. And I will do it, alone, just like I was going to do before you showed up, OK?"

"I'm -."

She placed a finger on his lips. "End of discussion. I'm sticking to the original plan. You can tag along if you want but you're staying in the car, deal?"

He sighed an angry sigh. "Have it your way. For some reason, you always seem to."

"Hey," now she raised her voice. "You're the most amazing guy I've ever met. Let's not allow this twisted job to affect us, ok?"

He shook his head. "Sorry…I'm sorry. Not was unnecessary. Fine. I'll sit in the car."

"Good. Now go and get ready but if you dare step a foot outta that car, you don't have to worry about Nemeth going after your ass, ok?"

# # #

If she really thought that he was just gonna sit outside and wait for her, then she was wrong. Very wrong. How the hell could she expect him to do nothing? She was confronting one of the most wanted men in the world and she was doing it alone. That was near stupid and her plan to meet him face to face was downright dumb.

He had watched her make contact with Nemeth's buyer. A small, stocky man that looked lost in this sick world of crime. He was quick to scarper when she chatted to him for a about a minute, leaving with a contact card. He'd get protection and enough money to live on for the rest of his life in return for leaving Nemeth an open target.

But as soon as Joan entered the warehouse, Arthur was out of the car and sneaking into the derelict building through a side door. He too had done his homework and knew the layout of the structure off by heart. He took cover by a wooden pallet, and was just able to see his lady and also the six foot four hulk when he entered for the meet.

Arthur had his gun drawn, the second he saw a Desert Eagle strapped to the man's belt.

"Who the hell are you?" Nemeth growled in a thick Texan accent.

"I'm here for a friend…you know, Joe Junior? He had a deal with you." She was strikingly calm and assured. This is why she was one of the best operatives that the agency had. "He couldn't make it."

"So he sent a girl, instead? Honey, this is not the sort of world that you said be involved in."

It made Arthur's skin crawl to hear him talk to her like that. He just managed to resist the urge to shoot him right there and then.

"I can handle myself, Isaac." Boy, was that the truth. "But my time is as valuable as I assume yours is. Let's get this over with."

He heard Nemeth sneer. "I don't see any money."

"It's in the trunk of my car," she lied. The tension was increasing as the terrorist did not like that idea one bit.

"Not good enough. That was not part of the original deal."

"No, this is how I operate. You give me the goods first and then you get your money."

Nemeth shook his head. "Get the damn money for me now, sweetheart."

"I'm not negotiating with you," Joan was still not flinching.

However, Arthur instinctively did when he saw the right hand of the Texan brush the steel of his firearm. He scrambled to his feet, his feet scuffing against the concrete.

Nemeth heard, his head snapping around. Arthur ducked for cover and he heard movement. A male groan, the sound of a scuffle. Arthur emerged to see Joan and Nemeth in a boxing style clinch, and he just managed to pop off a round into the Texan's skull and he hit the concrete with a thud and a clatter of metal, no doubt his gun falling beside him.

Joan's face was pale, shocked at her boyfriend's appearance. God, she actually expected him to stay in the car. "Arthur?" She whispered as he approached her. "The hell are you doing here?"

"What do you think? I told you, I wasn't going to leave you alone, was I?" He embraced her but she didn't return the hug, clutching her side. "You OK, honey?"

"Yeah," she faintly responded. Unsteady on her feet, she slumped into his arms. "Arthur…" She raised a hand to stroke his cheek. It was wet. An uneasy feeling hit him and he gently pried it off his skin.

Blood.

"Joan?"

"Arthur…" She said, breathlessly. "He had a…"

Knife. Arthur's eyes darted to the knife that was lying beside Isaac Nemeth's lifeless body. He had a knife.

"I love…." Joan never finished that sentence, her eyelids drooping shut, her body limp in his arms.

"No." He said defiantly. "No, Joan." He gently lowered her to the ground. That was when he saw the oozing wound to her abdomen. "Shit…shit…shit. Honey," his hands were shaking as he stroked her cheek before he felt for a pulse.

It was weak.

"No…" She wasn't going to leave him. "Stay with me…c'mon. Stay with me."

But he knew that his words were going unheard. He patted down his jacket for his phone. Instead he felt nothing but the box that he was planning to present to her with a question.

"Joan…c'mon." He didn't want that question to go unasked. He had to do something before he lost her.

Lost her to a stab wound and his own stupidity.

He couldn't lose her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Blood**

Just a few more miles. A few more minutes.

He didn't have enough time to find a phone and he couldn't have left her alone. An ambulance would have taken too long. She didn't have that long.

Arthur had tried speaking to her, hoping that she could cling on to the sound of his voice and hang in there. Nothing. He could barely hear her shallow breathing over the purr of the engine that was straining under the great force he was putting on it. She was out cold in the back seat, her skin a worrying shade of grey.

The knife, a good few inches in length had penetrated the lower right side of her abdomen. He'd attempted to stem the bleeding with his jacket and his jumper, securing it in place with his belt, tight. But the damage had been done. The only positive he was trying to take out of it was that it wasn't a through and through. And it may, just may, have missed hitting an organ.

"C'mon Mackenzie…" His voice did not hide his fear, his words laced with panic. "I can't lose you…"

But he was.

The steering wheel was wet with his sweaty palms, but it was his heart was that was driving the car, weaving it between vehicles on the highway. "I love you," he whispered as tears built in his eyes. "I love you and I'm sure as hell not gonna lose you. Where is your famous Joan stubbornness when you need it?"

He smiled, imagining her reaction to that word if she was still conscious.

"Sorry honey…I know how much you hate that word. What about determination?" He saw the sign that indicated the turn-off for the hospital. They were so close.

"Better…"

The word was barely audible but he still nearly jumped. He turned around, half expecting her to have her eyes open, be sitting up and smiling like this was all one big prank. No such luck. Again, nothing. He wondered if he had just imagined it. "Joan? Hey…hey are you with me?" He made the turn off. Miles had turned into metres.

"Arth…" Tearing his eyes off the road, her saw her lips draw out those four letters.

"Just hold on, honey. We're almost there, OK?"

She reached out an arm but it fell like a dead weight. A tear rolled down her cheek, somehow escaping from closed eyes. "I…" Every sound she made was fainter. "…love…" The last one took its while in coming. "…you."

"Joan." His own tears were blurring his vision. "Hey, it's all gonna be alright. We're gonna get you fixed up. And I'm not gonna leave you, ok?" The car tyres screeched as he made a sharp turn into the car park of St Christopher's. The unloading bay to the emergency room was straight ahead.

The next two words broke his heart. "I'm…scared."

"It's ok. There's nothing to be scared about. C'mon stay with me…I love you…Joan?"

He slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop outside the ER's doors. He bolted out of the driver's seat, throwing open the back door, gently reaching in to scoop her up in his arms. She was limp and cold yet sweat beaded her forehead, blood seeping through makeshift field bandages.

He cradled her like a baby as he stumbled inside. "Please," he pleaded to the lively ER. "Please somebody help her."

His calls sparked a frenzy of startled gasps and chatter about the guy holding the love of his life in his arms, wearing a shirt stained with her blood and tears openly raining from his eyes. He didn't care what a sight it must have been. He was just thankful that that said sight sparked some action, a group of doctors and nurses rushing over.

He gently lowered her onto the trolley that was wheeled over. He took her hand and frantically tried to keep up as they wheeled her down the corridor. "Joan…it's okay. You're gonna be okay."

"Sir," a young nurse placed a hand on his arm as they went through double doors, coming to a stop in the triage room. "We have to ask you to leave."

"Not happening." His hold on her tightened. He promised her he'd stay.

"Sir, it is in the best interests of your friend that you leave so that we can do our job."

"She's not my "friend". She's my girlfriend," he snapped.

"Then let us help her." The nurse began to pull him away, his hand slipping from Joan's. He was sure he felt her try to hold onto him before arm fell away as he was led back out into the hallway. People were staring. Watching as he crumbled, losing any sort of composure that he possessed, picking up a vacant chair and throwing it through the glass window of an office.

His legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, his body convulsing. He pounded the ground with bloody fists. Her blood. The blood he'd never be able to wash off his hands. The blood he had caused to shed. It should've been him. It was his damn fault.

She had try to hold on. He had let her go.

She was scared. Joan Mackenzie was never scared.

He was terrified.

Terrified that he might lose her.

The hand of a nurse rested on his shoulder and steadied him as his body shook with each sob. His eyes burned and the sight of her blood on his hands as he wiped back his tears made him throw up.

He just had to be strong for her.

She needed him to be strong for her.

# # #

Arthur had never been much of a believer until he had met Joan Mackenzie. But now he was praying to God that he wasn't going to lose his angel to this hellacious world that they both lived in. He was praying, openly in the relatives' room in his hard plastic chair, that she could just hold on.

It had been the longest three hours of his life. They were still fighting to save her whilst he replayed those five minutes over and over in his head. How everything had been going well until he had showed up. He should've stayed in the car. He should've just left her to do what she did best – her goddamn job.

The door opened and Arthur did what he did every time the door opened, he jumped to his feet. He quickly slumped back down when he saw who it was.

"Hey, Arthur," said Henry Wilcox as he took a seat next to him.

"What do you want?" Arthur sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I heard what went down. I came."

"That's very noble of you," Arthur spat out. He had no time for this.

"How is she?"

"Still in surgery."

"I'm sorry."

Arthur frowned. "I'm sorry too."

Henry sighed and waited a few minutes before he spoke. "You two did good back there. Nemeth is dead. That's one less bastard in this world."

"I don't care."

"Hey, you two took down one of-."

"I said I don't care." Arthur's voice rose and that temper, the temper he always kept hidden, showed its ugly head again. "I don't give a damn if I've just saved many innocent lives or saved the country from some sort of terrorist attack. Because tt would mean nothing if I lost her." His hands began to shake again. "I'm nothing without her."

"I-I…" Henry shook his head before he started again. "I'm sorry Arthur. I really am. I can't even begin to think about how I'd feel if something happened to Jai." Another pause. "You love her, don't you?"

"Yeah," Arthur's voice was raw. "I love her."

For the first time ever, Arthur saw Henry as a decent human being. "I'm sorry. I'll get people back at Langley to clear up this mess. You can take as much time off as you need…the same goes for Joan too."

"Thank you."

Henry stood to leave. "I don't know if this will mean anything to you but Nemeth's original contact? We've identified him as Scott Underwood…he's Isaac's half-brother. It was a set-up, Arthur."

"A set-up? We know this for certain?"

"Yeah…Joan was smart enough to somehow tag Underwood with a tracking device. We've got men out looking for him."

"Good." A thought crossed Arthur's mind. "What's the orders on this one?"

Henry thrust his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't sure that you would want to deal with this but if it means that much to you…"

"Take the bastard alive. I want him alive."

"Ok," Henry nodded before he patted Arthur on the back. "Hang in there. She's a fighter. She's not going to give up."

"I know." Arthur gave the slightest of smiles to Henry. "Thank you."

Henry smiled before he left. He nearly collided into a doctor as he left the room. "Mr Campbell?"

Arthur again jumped to his feet and desperately tried to read the face of the bespectacled doctor. "Arthur, please. How is she?"

"Please," the man with the name badge that read Doctor Cohen gestured to the chair. "Take a seat."

His stomach lurched, his eyes widening, stinging as he followed orders in a daze. "No…" he muttered. "Please God no."

Doctor Cohen swallowed and took a breath. "She made it through the surgery."

"Oh thank God." Another three words that he completely meant. "She's OK? Can I see her?"

"She's stable but still critical…we're still having to monitor her carefully but yes. Yes, you can see her."

# # #

There were tubes in her arms, wires feeding out of her and he hung onto her hand as if it was keeping her alive just like all the machines that were beeping around the room.

She was lucky was she Joan Mackenzie. Others would have given up by now. Arthur remembered what she had said after that disastrous quiz night. "I don't like losing." Truer words had never been spoken.

She had lost so much blood. Her heart had stopped. Twice on the operating table. The blade had been millimetres away from hitting an organ. Yet, she was still there. To hold. To love. To cherish.

He'd always tried to make the most of every second with her before. Now? He try even harder.

He had so much to make up to her.

# # #

Her head hurt.

Her eyes hurt.

Everything hurt.

Her head was heavy, and more or less rolled to the side without her say so. She forced her eyes open, succeeding after a few attempts at trying.

Arthur.

The man she loved was clutching her hand, his head resting on her legs as he snored gently. She'd never get tired of watching him sleep.

He was there. Just like he promised. He hadn't left her.

"Hey…" Her throat was dry and just saying those three words choked her. He didn't hear. He was out like a light. She slowly managed to bring her hand up to touch his cheek, to not only get his attention but to check that she wasn't dreaming.

He stirred. Blinking a few times before he properly came to. "Hey…you're awake." He brought her hand to his lips. "You had me worried."

"How…" Damn. It hurt to speak. "How long…has it been?" She noticed the five o'clock shadow on his face.

"Too long," he stood up, not letting go of her. "A day. You want me to get someone?"

She managed to shake her head. "I just…want you."

He smiled, his face lighting up as he kissed her forehead. "Good. Because I'm not leaving."

She felt the tears trickle down her face.

"Hey, hey," he hushed her, trying his best to hug her. She winced and he quickly backed off. "Sorry, sorry. You ok? Sorry."

"No," she welcomed the pain. It meant she was still alive. It meant she still had him. "Come back here…you idiot."

"Charming," he smiled as he went in to hug her again.

He didn't expect the right hook that came his way. To be fair, she didn't expect to have that strength in her.

He flew backwards, nearly falling on his ass. "Don't mess with…my missions again? OK?"

Blood trickled from his nose as his eyes were wide. "I'm sorry…Joan. I love you. I'm sorry."

Her bottom lip was trembling. "I love you too. But…you should have stayed in the goddamn car like I told you."

"I know…I've got a lot of making up to do, haven't I?"

"You think?"

"I'm…I'm just so glad you're alive. I don't…I don't know…" He tailed off, tears building in his red and tired eyes.

"What I'd do without you?" She coughed, the very movement reigniting memories of the burning sensation when that knife punctured her flesh. "I feel the same."

He smiled; thought the worry was still evident on his face. "You sure you don't want me to get you a doctor? They told me to-."

"No…please. Not yet. I just want you."

Who was he to argue? A look of realisation hit him as if he remembered something and he fumbled into his pockets, taking out a little black box. "I was going to wait until Christmas…but then I felt sorry for ruining our weekend and was going to make it up to you…and then this happened." His hands were shaking.

Wait? Was he?

He popped open the lid of the box, presenting it to her. "I know it's quick…but will you move in with me?"

She chuckled. No, laughed and she could feel her wound hurting but she couldn't help it.

"What's so funny?" The poor guy looked worried.

"No...nothing…it's just…" She stopped from saying that she thought he was going to propose to her. "Yes…yes, I will move in with you."

He smiled before he placed the box with the key down on the bedside table, as he kissed her. "I love you, sweetie."

She held onto him tight, never wanting to let go. "I love you too."


	16. Chapter 16

**House**

She could get used to this.

Putting aside the very small matter of experiencing the way in which her life had drained from her body, how she struggled to breathe and how the only thing she could think about as she faced death was Arthur Campbell, not less than three days ago, she could easily get used to being treated like a princess by her Prince Charming.

He brought her stuffed bears, smuggled contraband such as chocolate bars and sweets from the gift shop as well as stacks of magazines for her to read. It was all too much. She had him to cuddle, he was sweet enough and he kept her far too busy to even think about wanting to read. But hey. How many times was she almost going to die in her life? How many times would lose almost half of her blood again? How many times would her heart have to be kick started back into life not once, but twice?

Shit, that scared her.

Shit, she knew all too well that she had admitted her fear to him when she thought that was it and how it scared her to feel that vulnerable.

Shit, she was still scared at how close she came to losing everything for the sake of a stupid job.

But hey, she was Joan Mackenzie. She never admitted stuff like that. She'd put on a brave face, bottle up her feelings and act like nothing happened.

Except it did. And even Joan Mackenzie was scared.

"Arthur…" She nudged her boyfriend, who had somehow managed to squeeze alongside her in her single hospital bed, in the ribs. "Arthur, wake up."

He quickly stirred, rising from having his head resting on her shoulder. He twisted around to see the time. It was a quarter after one. "Hey…don't most normal people sleep at this time?" He was wide awake, his drowsiness no doubt warded off by that constant deep rooted panic about her. Sure, he was fussing over her. But she liked it.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure," he said and sat up beside her. Boy, was she glad that her healthcare not only provided this private room but also shower facilities and clean clothes for him. Because he had stayed true to his word and not left her side since got here and would've began to smell by now. "But are you-."

"I'm alright, Arthur." She smiled as if to reinforce her statement.

"Good." He did look relived. She must have done something incredibly right in her life to be rewarded with a man like him.

"A lot of things have happened…"

"Stating the obvious there, honey."

"Let me finish."

"Yes ma'am."

"A lot of things have happened," she began again, sure of where she wanted to go but still fuzzy on how. "The past few days? Yeah…that was unexpected. Even in our line of work."

"Tell me about it."

She screwed up her face as she thought for a minute, thinking of various ways to try and draw things out, take her time to get to the point. _Damn it Joan. Stop being so goddamn stubborn. Open up to the man._ "I-I…" She stopped herself and veered down another route. "I've never felt as comfortable with someone in my entire life as I have with you."

His face lit up, even though she was sure that it was obvious to both him and her. "The feeling is mutual."

"I-I…" She clenched her fist, letting her nails dig into her palm to force it out of her. "I meant what I said," she spluttered out. "Every last word."

Confusion took hold of his features. "About what?"

"What I said in the car."

He smiled softly. "Honey, I know you love me. And again, the feeling is mutual."

"No…well, that as well, but no. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about something else."

He always looked adorable when he was racking his brains, trying to figure something out. Cute until she saw that moment when he realised exactly what she meant. "We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to. I get it."

"Please…" She interlaced her fingers with his. "I need to say this now, in case I never say it."

"Sure. I'm all ears…well metaphorically speaking I-."

"Arthur."

"Sorry." He squeezed her hand, him every bit as nervous as she was. "Go ahead,"

She squinted up at the plain white ceiling, unable to look him in the eyes. "I was scared." She blinked and a tear trickled down. "I was scared because I thought I was gonna die…and there was all these moments in life that I was never gonna to be able to experience. Getting married…having a baby…being called "Mom" for the first time…" She swallowed hard, hearing that catch in her throat. "And then there was you. I thought of you. Because…because you're that guy I want all this to happen with." Now she looked him in the eye. She could never take all that back. It was out there…she had thrown herself out there.

He gently rested his forehead against her's and closed his eyes. "And I want that to. More than anything in the world."

She smiled. "I feel stupid now." She also felt broken.

"No. If that's what you think is stupid, then I'm stupid too. Hell, we're both stupid for wanting to be happy."

"Thank you." She rested a hand on his cheek. "Thank you for being there. Thank you for always being there."

"I'm more than happy to be…why wouldn't I be?"

As beautifully honest and perfect that this moment was, a moment that she'd always remember, this level of vulnerability? It couldn't last. She didn't want to have those walls, that instinctive defensive mechanism that had plagued her all her life, with him. But she couldn't just tear it down all of a sudden. "Just…just don't be there again the next time when I tell you to stay in the car, OK?"

He chuckled. "Believe me, I am strictly following your orders from now on."

"Exactly. Because maybe if you walked properly instead of scuffing your feet then I wouldn't have had a knife shoved into me."

He looked insulted. "I lost my footing. And hey. I don't scuff my feet."

"Please…you do it all the time. Does our," That felt strange to say. "Does our new house have carpets or floorboards?"

"Both. I think…you'll find out tomorrow. Or should I say later today?"

"Well, mister. You dare ruin our carpets by dragging your feet along them, you'll pay, OK?"

He sighed. "Of course I would but since I don't scuff my feet then this won't be an issue and this is a pointless conversation."

She smiled. He was cute to wind up and it acted as a perfect cover to start putting that armour back on. She nestled into him and closed her eyes.

_Home today, she thought. Home for Christmas. Things were already looking better._

# # #

"You stay there; let me get the door for you." He sprung out of the driver's seat, a move that brought back painful memories of a few days back.

"I'm not going anywhere, Arthur." He heard her mutter, from inside the car. She was tired, had slept for most of the long car ride from Long Island to Virginia. He wondered if this was too much too soon. She nearly died four days ago. And yet she was home already on Christmas Eve. He knew how much it meant to her and of course, he was in a position to pull some strings. But the second she took a turn for the worse, he'd be rushing her off to their nearest hospital. Christmas might be everything to her but she was everything to him. She came first.

"You think you're good to walk?" He leaned on the frame of the car door, offering a hand to pull her up.

"Yeah…I think so." She groaned as she got up on her feet, helped by him. "Wait…this isn't your place."

"You just realised?"

"Hey, some maniac stabbed me a few days ago. Excuse me for being a bit slow."

"Fair point…"

She looked up at the two story house with the grand white columns that stood proudly either side of the front door. Number 2856. "Whoa…Arthur…please tell me that this isn't a joke."

"It's not a joke. It's a house." He was careful, stopping himself from wrapping his arms around her waist. He wasn't sure he'd ever not be careful now. "It's our house."

Many people wouldn't have heard that quiet little, gasp of surprise and joy. But he did because he knew her and knew all her little quirks. Like that one where she made a joke to hide the fact that she was speechless. "You are aware that what I've got you for Christmas pales in comparison, right? I wasn't aware that we were buying each other houses, else I would have bought you a condo."

He chuckled. "Whatever you've got me will be perfect, I know it. Anyway, I've already got the most perfect gift a man could ever have."

"And that is?"

He nuzzled her neck. "You."

She reached up a hand to delicately stroke his cheek. "It's been an eventual few days Arthur and I'm still coming to terms with it all. So stop making me cry, ok?"

"Sorry, honey. But if the truth makes you cry-."

"Arthur, I'm being serious. Stop making me cry."

He laughed. "You want to go inside or do you just want to stare at it?"

She twisted around to face him, a move that provided her great discomfort. Her face was a cross between amused and confused and a little bit of pain was thrown in there too. "That sounds incredibly wrong, Arthur. Please word it differently."

He smirked. "It only sounds wrong if you've got a dirty mind, Joan."

"I don't have a dirty mind."

"Oh please…like you weren't going to ask me what the kitchen is like? In particular, the kitchen counter?"

"Lord, I'm moving in with a ten year old."

"Don't you just know it?" He winked. "Now…" He held out his arm. "Shall we?"

"Can you…can you…?" He noticed how she was favouring her side.

"Help? Here." He quickly pondered the best way to go about this. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. He'd seen first-hand the damage that piece of steel had done to her. She was lucky to be alive, never mind be out of the hospital this early. He was scared to touch her, scared that he'd hurt her. But he just about managed to prop her up and he helped her to the front door. "Care to do the honour, dear?"

She was smiling as she slipped the key into the lock for the first time. Smiling as the door opened, their house opening up to them. She was just about to take that first step of many in that home when he stopped her. She looked confused and a little pissed that he was ruining that moment. "What?"

He simply pointed up to the mistletoe that was hanging above the doorframe. "I believe it is traditional," he said with a cheeky grin.

She shook her head at him but she wasn't angry or at all upset. She was the happiest he'd ever seen her and she crashed her lips into his. "You charming bastard."

# # #

He had watched her sleep more than he had actually had slept himself recently. He tucked a blanket under her chin as she slept on one of the chocolate leather sofas.

She stirred. "Arthur…?"

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Tired."

"You need anything?"

"Yeah, sleep…what time is it?"

He checked his watch. "Just after seven."

"The morning?" Her eyes lit up at the prospect of Christmas morning.

He smiled at just how cute that was. "No, still Christmas Eve. Hey…I just got a call from the office…but it can wait if you're not up to being left alone."

"No," She shut her eyes. "I'm OK. Go Arthur."

"Are you sure?" He really didn't want to leave her.

"Just don't be long, OK?"

He leaned over to kiss her head. "I promise I won't be long. You need anything before I go? Water? Blankets? Want the TV on?"

"No…thank you."

Regardless, before he left, he left water, blankets and the TV remote all within distance of her. His business could really wait. But, he had to get something out of his system. Wilcox had, in fact, called him about the news yesterday.

"Do you know who I am?" Arthur said as he perched on the edge of the steel table.

Scott Underwood said nothing.

"I'm Arthur Campbell. That woman you met the other day? The one that had tried to convince you to do the right thing? The woman who nearly died because of your scumbag brother? I love her."

Underwood remained quiet.

"Stand up," Arthur wasn't scared of the man in shackles. "Stand your sorry ass up."

Underwood wasn't cooperating.

Arthur grabbed him by the throat and pulled him up. "You're scum. You're going to pay for you and your pathetic brother's crimes."

Underwood smirked.

Arthur slammed the smirking face into the steel table, hearing bone crack. "You're going to get to know me very well over the next…well, however long you live. You're going to wish that you were like your brother. Cold…lying in an unmarked grave, slowly rotting away. Isaac got out easy. You're not getting that same luxury." He threw the bastard to the hard, concrete ground before he left the small cell, located just under Langley.

He didn't want to leave Joan alone too long.

Underwood could wait.

Joan couldn't.


	17. Chapter 17

**Christmas Morning**

Some of her fondest memories were of Christmases past. Family, food, fun…and presents. She just couldn't forget presents. Who could? The past couple of Christmases, had admittedly, been forgettable. Sharing cold turkey with the cat, unable to make the long trip to visit her parents in Pennsylvania due to the fact she always drew the short straw and had to work the next day, that was tough. But if she knew that this year she'd be spending the holiday with the man she loved? Hell, she'd go through a hundred of crappy Christmases to spend just one with him.

It was time to make new memories.

Make new memories with the man who was…wait. Correction. With the man who should have been lying next to her as she woke.

"Arthur?" The painkillers had pretty much knocked her out for most of last night – painkillers which had now worn off and her wound was burning yet again – but she faintly remembered him leaving in the evening.

Wait.

She may have been jacked up on meds and not remember a darned thing, but she knew for a fact that she had fallen asleep on the couch last night. Not in their bed, in their bedroom.

Whoa. Adding "their" as a pronoun to things was equally as strange as it was normal.

"Morning sleepy head," Arthur called as he entered their bedroom. Their bedroom. She really liked the ring of that. "Or should that be, 'Merry Christmas'?"

"Did you…did I…how did I get up here?"

"I'm really surprised that you don't remember, sweetie." He said as he perched on the edge of their bed. Man, was his Christmas jumper even more hideous than the other hideous Christmas jumpers. That thing deserved to be burned rather than just thrown out.

"Should I?"

He smiled. "When I got back you were…well…I accidently woke you then you were…I think the term is 'high as a kite'."

"Oh God…"

"And handsy."

"Oh God…"

"Very handsy."

"Oh God…I'm sorry."

He chuckled. "Not your fault. Besides, it was kinda fun. Actually really fun."

Lord, she was bad enough when it was wine, never mind narcotics. "Yeah well…Merry Christmas, Mr Campbell."

"You too, Mackenzie."

She flopped back to the mattress, waving her hand towards the bedside cabinet. Their bedside cabinet – she really had to stop with that pronoun. It was making her feel even giddier than she usually did on Christmas morning. "Arthur, could you…"

He grabbed the bottle of pills and placed them in her hand. "Still bad?"

She groaned. "Not bad…just annoying."

"Do you want-." His eyes widened as he watched her dry swallow them. "Water?"

She shook her head and smiled, not letting on the fact that she couldn't wait that long for him to run and get a glass of water. She needed them now. "Nope. What I want is to celebrate Christmas with a certain special guy right now."

Arthur screwed up his face. "Sorry, honey. I think Santa is in another continent right now."

"Darn it…guess you'll have to do, huh?"

"I guess."

"Yeah, you and that horrid jumper."

He laughed in faux offence. Or maybe it was genuine. Lord, she hoped not.

"Take it off," she ordered.

"Really? Since when are you the one to give orders?"

"Take. It. Off."

"What…everything?" He grinned from ear to ear.

"Yeah, now normally, I wouldn't be one to object but…it is Christmas and well. It is Christmas."

"Charming and I love you too, honey." Ugh, he was the one being so charming. "You good to move?"

"I'm not so sure," she answered. Again, letting herself be so vulnerable was just as painful as the two-inch long scar she now had for the rest of her life. Despite her objections, being honest with the man who was now giving her a piggyback down the stairs, was healthy. Transparency was important in every relationship. Never mind in a relationship between two spies.

"You OK back there?"

She rested her chin on his shoulder and smiled. "Yeah." Who needed painkillers? Arthur Campbell could make any pain go away.

"Good…because the elves have been busy whilst you were out of it last night."

She found it was cute how he was playing along with the festivities. He just never failed to amaze her. Like how he had managed to somehow sneak a seven foot tree into their living room sometime between last night and now. She was speechless. And she knew her face had just lit up as bright as all the lights that were wrapped around the real pine tree.

"What do you think?"

"I-I…" She realised that words were not about to come anytime soon. Instead, she settled for kissing his neck to show her appreciation.

He laughed. "I take that as a good sign."

"You can. But…" She pointed at the peak of the tree. "You forgot the star or the angel."

"Have I? I've got my angel right here. But I'm not so sure that'd she like to spend the entire day up there. Would you?"

She nuzzled his neck. "I seriously didn't think it was possible to love you even more."

He gently lowered her down onto the sofa. "The feeling is mutual, sweetheart."

"When did you do all of this?"

"Last night when you were asleep. I also stopped off at your place, like you suggested, and picked up a bag of clothes for you."

She loved how thoughtful he was. Even if she was more than happy to wear his baggy shirts and his less hideous jumpers around their home. "Did you by any chance pick up my luggage from the Long Island assignment?"

"I did, how?"

"Your present is in it."

"Is it?"

"Yeah…I didn't want you to go snooping around my place for it whilst I was away. Like, you no doubt tried to do when you picked up my stuff for me."

She caught that twinkle in his eye.

"You did, didn't you?"

He grinned. "In my defence…yeah, I know I don't have a defence here."

"Damn right, you don't mister. Any chance you can grab that bag for me? So you can finally get it."

"No problem. I'll go and get yours too." He sprinted upstairs, taking two at a time, leaving her to sit and take in the wonder that was the living room. The little touches, the ornaments on the fireplace, the tinsel on the window sills. It was incredible and amazing.

Arthur Campbell was incredible and amazing.

"Now, I'm sorry honey. I didn't have time to wrap and even if I did, I can't wrap for the life of me, so I'm doing us both a favour here." He said as he came back down.

"It's OK." Since it was him, she could let this one slide.

"Close your eyes," he said from behind her.

She complied, feeling his hands gently pull her hair back, something cold tickling her neck, his hands warm as they brushed against her skin.

"Open them."

The diamond pendant glistened with the blinking fairy lights. She could feel tears tugging at her eyes as she held the precious stone in her hand. "It's beautiful."

He kissed her cheek. "It's not the only one."

Joan stroked his cheek. "I seriously don't know what I have done to be rewarded with a guy like you."

"I ask myself that question every day. These last few months…they've changed my life. I can't even picture my life without you."

She bit down on her lip. "These have been the craziest, strangest and happiest few months of my life. But I wouldn't change them for the world. I…" She paused as she leaned into him as he sat down next to her on the sofa. "I always had this feeling about you, Arthur Campbell. What with this weird, twisted world of espionage…I never thought I'd meet anyone as genuine as you. I never have had something that felt this…this real and natural. And there you come…sure, I end up having to save your ass first but when you know? Know that it's going to last? Know that there'll never be a darker day in your life? That's when you know. And I've known for quite some time."

"Yeah," he nodded, cuddling into her. "I've known for a long time too. Girls like Joan Mackenzie are a rarity. I was so scared that I was going to mess things up with you and miss my shot at happiness. Now look at me…I've never been happier, Joan. And it's all because of you."

She patted his chest. "You've made things right in my life. And you're not the only one that'll feel forever lucky that I saved your life that day." She could talk forever about how happy he made her, but Christmas wouldn't last forever. "Now, I know what I got you isn't a gorgeous house or a gorgeous necklace but…it means a lot to me."

She slowly reached down to her tattered and well-travelled suitcase that Arthur had placed on the ground moments ago. She pulled out the parcel and handed it over him. "Thank you for making everything better."

He slowly tore the wrapping paper off, carefully and taking his time, until he uncovered the leather covered journal.

"It's not much, I know…but it's my journal for this year. I'm not the easiest person to get to know…I can't express my feelings about you like I really wanna. Not in person. But it's all in there – everything that I feel about you. Just in case, I never have the guts to tell you."

He said nothing but the way he embraced her told her so much.

It told her that everything was going to be alright. Everything was going to be perfect.

That journal would only tell him about four months of her time with him. But she had forever to finally be able to show him just how much he meant to her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Christmas Dinner**

She had drifted off to sleep shortly after he'd stuck a film on and he had become her own pillow, her head not moving any time soon from his chest and he was unable to find it in himself to wake her. How could he? Why ruin such a perfect moment when he was more than content to ignore the TV and watch nothing but her as he softly stroked her hair.

The past week had been cruel to Joan. To him too. Or it should have been. They were never going to let this sick, twisted world that they lived in drag them down. They'd stuck together and grown together, grown closer.

Four months ago, she was just the girl that was way out of his league. Now, she still was and would always be too good for him, something he would never thought he deserved, but he loved her and she loved him. That was all that mattered.

Four months ago, they were nothing but acquaintances. Now, they were equals and two mature, loved-up individuals who had complete trust in one another and would always be there for each other, whether it'd be broken bones or stabbings.

Four months ago, Joan Mackenzie was writing about the "cute guy" that she "couldn't resist teasing". Now, she was lowering those normal Mackenzie walls and had given Arthur her journal that told him exactly how he made her feel.

Amazing, beautiful, tough, cute and the only one for him. That was just some of the many ways in which he could describe her. But Joan? To her he was "the charming devil, the man that brightened every day, the guy who the stars aligned her with." He felt exactly the same but Joan had a way with words that made him smile that bit brighter.

Just don't get her started on Henry Wilcox or Seth Newman. Those few pages were interesting to say the least. He wondered just how on earth she had killed neither one of them yet.

"Honey," he whispered, going against every instinct as he gently shook her awake.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He saw a smile tugging on her lips, the grip around his waist getting tighter.

"Just don't hate me, ok?"

"I can never hate you, Arthur," she murmured into his chest. "Why?"

He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to supress his whimper. "I smell burning."

She sniffed but still didn't open her eyes. "Yeah, me too."

"Sweetie…that's our dinner."

Now her eyes were open. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't know how to work the cooker…and then I kind of lost track of time…and then I didn't want to wake you. And now the turkey is probably turning to ash." He knew how much Christmas meant to her. Now, again, he felt like the Grinch – even though this time it was purely accidental. "Honey…don't be mad."

He was taking her silence as anger or annoyance or silent murderous thoughts – after all he had seen some of the journal entries about Wilcox and Newman. Her silence was beginning to worry him. Then she snorted, sniggered and then erupted into full scale laughs.

"Hey, hey, don't laugh. It's not funny."

"Oh Arthur it is…believe me it is…typical-." Her laughing fit ceased and she clutched her side, yelping.

"Joan." He stopped fretting about the burning turkey. The house could burn down for all he cared. But she came first. She'd always come first.

"I'm fine, honestly."

"You're not. I know you're not." He gently sat her up, tenderly removing her hands from where she was holding her side. "I don't like this as much as you. Just let me see." He lifted his old Camp Peary issued sweatshirt she'd stolen, up, seeing the droplets of blood begin to seep through her bandages. His stomach churned. "Shit…"

She tilted her head back, sighing.

Arthur carefully peeled back the gauze, hoping and praying that her stitches hadn't burst. Hoping and praying that he didn't have to take her back to the Emergency Room. Hoping and praying that they could just have a normal Christmas together.

"Is it bad?"

It looked bad. It would always look bad, the constant reminder of how he nearly lost her. But in her context? It wasn't. It was nothing more than what the doctor had warned them about possible minor bleeding around the incision. Her laughing at his misfortune didn't help. "You're ok. Just don't laugh at my cooking skills, or therefore lack of, again, ok?"

"I can't promise that," she muttered. "Learn to cook first."

"I tried."

"And I appreciate the effort…but you're gonna be the death of me, you know that? And I'm not just talking about food poisoning."

"And you're not?"

She placed her finger on his lips. "I saved you from some Russian dude not long ago."

"September the 3rd…how could I forget?" He snuggled up to her on the couch, grabbing the journal and turning it to that page. He had read it a good few times, that particular page and the words would stay with him forever. Her words would stay with him forever. He took a double take. "You don't mind…do you?"

"No…" She said as she leaned back into him. "Not at all."

"September 3rd," he begun, draping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as he read out the entry of the day when she had walked into his life in her six inch heels. The journal wasn't just a symbol of how far she'd come, how much she trusted him, it was also the most perfect, beautiful love story. That day was no different.

He thought she was beginning to drop off again but he saw the growing smile on her face as he read out loud. She didn't need to say anything more than what was in those well-thumbed pages. Arthur Campbell was a spy. He was trained to read between those lines.

Even if he wasn't, he still wouldn't be left in any doubt. He knew what love at first sight was.

Because he felt exactly the same way that day.

"Joan…that's…" Damn, why didn't he have her way with words? Beautiful just didn't do that justice. Heck, it barely covered her.

She looked up to him with that face. No, not the scary glare. The other one. The one that never failed to make him smile. She was so happy.

"Thank you…for this. It's the best gift ever."

She sighed. "This house, the necklace…and you. I'm feeling pretty darn special too."

"Can I ask you something?"

She rubbed his chest with her hand. "Anything."

"If you had the chance…would you just pack this all in? This stupid job, the stupid world we immerse ourselves in?"

She frowned, continuing to stare up into his eyes. "This job…I always knew the risks when I accepted it. I knew that I'd be risking my life every single day. It's crazy, I know. And it scares me. But this job? It gave me you…and for that I am ever thankful."

"Yeah…me too." He smiled.

"What about you? Would you give it all up if you could?"

He nodded. "If it meant that we were safe…if it meant that you were safe then yes. Without a doubt."

# # #

Sour cream and onion Pringles and still orange juice. Boy, did one of the CIA's hottest couples know how to live it up?

But she was with him and that was all that mattered.

And after coming that close to losing him, they could be starving and it still wouldn't matter.

She was never the girl that spent their teenage years planning out their weddings. She rarely had crushes. She had never thought about forever until Arthur.

"You know, I never told you this," Arthur said as he came back downstairs, with a jumper in his hands that he passed to her. "But, I never really liked Christmas until I met you."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah…the past few years, I've made sure that I've been working. Away from it all. Away from…well, you know."

She nodded. "And now? What's with the big change all of a sudden?"

"You. You…" He shook his head. "I was gonna say silly but I don't think that would end well, right?"

"Right." She gently prised herself off the couch to stand up and embraced him, his warmth coming as a welcome gift. "Well…if you're someone who was never much of a believer, then you've done a fine job of making it perfect."

"You've made it easy, my dear. I cannot take all the credit when I have the perfect accomplice to spend it with."

"Charmer."

"Gorgeous."

"Sexy."

"Tease."

"You know it," she grinned, taking his hand.

He snaked an arm around her waist. "You seem a lot better tonight. I'm glad."

"I'm glad too. To quote you, "you've made it easy". I seriously don't know what I would have done without you, Arthur."

"Yeah…" He began to gently sway her. "It's been my pleasure."

She rested her head on his shoulder, letting him lead. "Best. Christmas. Ever."

"Now that I agree."

"Good."

A moment passed before he spoke again. "Can you just promise me one thing, honey?"

"For you, anything. Else you want me to run a marathon anytime soon. Cause I don't think that's possible."

"I wasn't. But now you ask…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah…you're going to be disappointed in that mister." She prodded his chest with a finger. "Now, out with it. Promise you what?"

"That you'll take it easy. Not push yourself. Don't feel as if you've got to hurry back out there. You nearly died…if you go back out there too early and something-." There was a catch in his voice, his eyes glistening with fresh tears and pain. "I don't want anything to happen to you, OK? It hurts me to see you hurt."

"I know," she had noticed the toll it had taken on her man. And she was scared of hurting him too. "I promise."

"Good," he kissed her. "Otherwise I'd be literally wrapping you up in Kevlar every time you left this house."

She laughed. "You know…I don't blame you. Every time I see a bike, I just wanna wrap you up in cotton wool."

"Funny," he remarked but he couldn't help but laugh. "And I read that entry in your journal. Not cool, Mackenzie."

"Hey, if I recall correctly, I did say that I was sorry for what happened in some way."

"Yeah as well as declaring it as some stunt out of a circus, only with a "clumsy and useless clown". It was "clumsy and useless clown", right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But you're _my_ clown." She kissed him on the lips. "Merry Christmas, Arthur Campbell."

He kissed her back. "Merry Christmas, Joan Mackenzie."


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Just want to take a few lines to thank YOU for such awesome and incredible feedback to this fic. This is the most enjoyable fic to write and to see such lovely reviews and responses to this, makes me want to write this even more. You guys are awesome and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.**

Power Cut

Hands still trembling, she replaced the phone in the handset just as Arthur came into the living room. Their living room. Yes, it had been three days, and it still made her as giddy as it did that first day. "Babe, don't hate me," she turned to face him.

"'Babe', huh?" He grinned. "I thought that was your nickname."

"Yeah…no, it's not."

"OK," he bit down on his bottom lip. "Anyway, what's with this new term of endearment and don't you know that I can never hate you?"

"I'm not so sure you'll still be saying that in two days' time."

He raised a brow. "You're losing me here, honey. Care to share? Or do I have to guess from these cryptic clues?"

"I was just on the phone."

"Yeah. I saw that. I'm many things but I'm not blind."

"But you're patient, handsome and understanding, right? And I've done something right in this life to have landed a guy like you." Yeah, there were many things she was good at. Buttering up –even though she meant every single word – was not her strong point. Being subtle sometimes wasn't either.

"What have you done?"

"Well…" She dragged out those four letters.

"You're starting to worry me a little now."

She doubted that. He hadn't stopped worrying this past week. And she felt as guilty as he did, that he cared so much. "I was on the phone…"

"Yes, we've cleared this up already."

"To home…" Home. That was the wrong word. This, right here with him, was her home.

"Home?" His face crumpled and he touched her arm. "Is everything OK? Has something happened?"

"No, no. I…"

"Tell me," he said taking her hands. That was it. There was no chance she could hold back now. He was too close…too cute…too much of the man she wanted to spend forever with.

"My parents are coming."

"When?"

"In a few days."

"For New Year's?"

"For New Year's. I-I…" _Wanted them to meet you. I wanted them to see how happy you've made me. I wanted them to meet the man who'll I will be spending forever with. _Of all those thoughts, she settled for a simple and completely different sentiment, knowing that he already knew how she felt. "I invited them."

He smiled warmly. "That's good news…isn't it?"

"Yeah of course it is." And it was. For the sole purpose of showing Arthur off, it was an excellent idea. But it was stressful. It was always stressful. The lies. The lies to those she loved. To them she was Joan Mackenzie, a lucky clerk at the World Bank who got to travel the world. Not Joan Mackenzie, a CIA agent. Now there was Arthur Campbell and no doubt another lie.

That was one of the many reasons why she had fallen deeply for Arthur. She could be herself. No lies and no bullshit. That was why they had clicked the way that they had. They saw each other for what they really were. And loved each other for it.

"But they don't know?"

"About the job?"

He nodded. Some would say mind reader. He wasn't. He just knew her so well.

"I can't tell them…I always thought I would, at some stage, but…well. I guess I've got a perfect example of how dangerous this all is. I don't want them to worry."

He slid his hands to her waist. "That is a very good point. You got a story for that one?"

"Um…bank robbery?"

"The World Bank? It'd be on the news."

"Um…some crazy Texan knifed me because you scuffed your feet?"

He sighed. "It's a little sad that is a much more believable story. Well, it would be if I actually did scuff my feet."

She threw herself at him, nearly toppling him and again hurting herself in the process. But he was worth all the pain in the world. "You're impossible, mister," she muttered into his chest.

"And you're not, missy?" His hand slipped up the back of his stolen shirt and he began to rub circles on her bare back. Calming, she could feel all those nerves about the family visit melt away as she melted in his arms, her eyes closing as she felt herself wanting to drift off. He had other plans as he gently rocked her. "I couldn't help but notice you seem a lot better today."

"I feel a lot better," she murmured. She had him and the painkillers to thank for that. She needed them both equally as much. "But I don't wanna rush things. I just wanna take it easy…have more days like this. With you."

"I like that plan."

"Good. Because it sorta hinged on you liking it."

"That's good because-."

She opened her eyes at his paused. "What the…?"

His eyes darted around the now dark room. "Darn, that better be a power cut because I have no idea where the fuse box is in this house." He led her over to the sofa and lowered her down before he darted over to the window. "Street's out and the snow's not letting off. Definitely a power cut."

"Great," she sighed.

He chuckled. "Not afraid of the dark are you?"

"Please."

"Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to," he began to rub her shoulders. "I don't wish to alarm you but…"

"You're alarming me, Arthur. Spit it out."

"Well…when I got the house, the heating still needed to be fixed and, I thought, well that we weren't going to be moving in until after the holidays and, you know," he rambled. "Electric heaters would do until someone came to sort out the heating so, we're-."

"We've got no heating, right?"

"Bingo."

"Well…we've got each other, right?"

"Right…oh." His face lit up. "Are you thinking what I'm now thinking?"

"It depends…"

"Two people…darkness…body heat?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, pal."

"What?" His face was awash with both looks of caught-red-handed and disappointment.

"You know _what_." She shook her head and smiled. "You know, I wouldn't normally object but it doesn't really fall between the brackets of rest. Doctor's orders, I'm afraid."

"Since when does Joan Mackenzie follow orders?"

"Tempting, Campbell. But since Joan Mackenzie nearly died a week ago, she really wouldn't want to risk anything. Or end up trying to explain things at the hospital if something did happen."

He pouted. "Fair enough. Then what did Joan Mackenzie have in mind? Besides that, obviously."

She patted the empty sofa she was sitting on. "Joan Mackenzie wants to cuddle with Arthur Campbell."

He didn't need to be told twice and he wrapped his arms around her. "Arthur Campbell likes that idea."

# # #

"I was twenty-two…I had options. A handful of job placements, a couple of colleges offering places on different courses too. But none of them really…what's the word? Excited? Yeah, excited me."

"Then the agency happened?" The power had still not returned. The snow was still coming down. But Joan was right. They had each other. And even though they knew so much about each other, there was a lot that they had learned about each other over these past few hours.

"Yeah. Strange as it may seem but the agency represented something…something that I wanted to do. Besides my serving my country, I wanted something that would push me. That ever constant rush of living on the edge. A challenge."

"With the added perk of travelling the world, right?"

She smirked. "Of course. That never gets old. And maybe the new, handsome head of the DPD will earmark me for any future assignments in Paris, eh?"

"Well…we'll have to see now, won't we?" He frowned. "What is it with female operatives and Paris anyway?"

She sighed breathlessly. "Arthur, its Paris. What isn't it?"

He pulled her closer, tighter. "Maybe the handsome head of the DPD will take you there one day himself."

"I hope he does. That would be perfect." She placed a hand on his chest. "So what's your story? How did you wind up in this crazy world?"

"I…" Joan was too smart to believe his bullshit and not sense his hesitancy. Plus he hated lying to her. "Just promise me you won't laugh, OK?"

"Um, OK. But that infers that it's a funny story, so I'm not gonna promise you anything. Now out with it."

"Well...after the navy, I was offered a role in the agency. And…well…I always wanted to be like James Bond."

Bless her. She was trying so hard not to laugh. So hard that he ended up chuckling at how cute that was.

"OK, OK, sweetie laugh. It is kinda funny, I'll give you that."

"Oh Arthur, I think that is adorable. I can just picture you in your little tux sipping a martini." She broke and laughed.

""Shaken not stirred"", he said putting on his best English accent.

"Stop making me laugh, damnit. It still hurts."

"Sorry," he felt a pang of guilt but she waved him away.

"It's OK. Guess it comes with the territory of being your Bond girl, huh?"

"That's right. Except I don't need a string of babes when I've got the only one I need. And that's you. Babe."

She traced his cheekbone with her thumb. "I'm letting you get away with that one because you're the cutest James Bond ever."

"Good." He planted kisses along her neck. "You really wish you weren't following doctor's orders right now, aren't you?"

"So, so, so much. But this?" She tangled her fingers in his hair. "This will do for now."

"It sure will," he smiled. He hoped the power would never return.


	20. Chapter 20

Meet the Parents

Arthur didn't know whether he should find her constant pacing cute or whether he should be getting worried about the meeting the Mackenzies for the first time. Because, let's face it. Joan Mackenzie did not get nervous.

"You're gonna wear out that carpet if you don't sit down," he called. "And that's a new carpet, so please don't."

She stopped and looked blankly at him. "Sorry?"

"Oh babe, you're miles away, aren't you?"

"No, no, no…I…God, I don't know."

He stood and walked over to her. "You sure you're OK? You seem a little…agitated."

"No, I'm fine, I just." She wandered into his open arms. "I just want this to go right."

"And it will, OK?"

"They're already twenty minutes late."

"Not everyone has your scary level of punctuality, Joan."

"Scary?"

"Honey when a guy asks you to arrive at six o'clock, it scares the guy when you arrive at exactly six o'clock. And I mean when the second hand actually hits the minute."

She smiled. "You're referring to our first date, right? Six o'clock, Allan's?"

"Yeah…you remember?"

She cupped his cheek with a hand. "I will never, ever forget. I can even tell you that you were wearing a red tie that night. White shirt."

He grinned. "I'm impressed. And you were wearing…um…"

"Let me guess…in your eyes? Probably nothing."

"And you're spot on." He leaned in to kiss her, only to be interrupted by the doorbell.

"Damn…they're here."

"They waited all this time and interrupt us now? God…I'm already hating your parents."

"Me too…" She patted his chest. "I'll go get that. And remember?"

"Joan Mackenzie has worked at the World Bank for the past nine years, on the fifth floor and is the hottest damn employee there?"

She bit down on her lip. "Yep, that'll do."

He hung back, watching the front door from the living room as he smoothed out his shirt and straightened up a squint cushion. He saw how Joan's face lit up as she hugged her mother and then her father. A couple of moments of small talk before she proudly led them into the living room.

"Mom, dad…this is my boyfriend, Arthur."

"Pleased to meet you," he shook both of their hands firmly and with a smile.

"So nice to finally meet you son. My little girl has been harping on about you for quite some time," her father said.

"Oh she has, has she?" He looked over in her direction. "All good, I hope."

"Now, that's between me and Joanie," he winked. "I'm Michael and this is Deborah my wife."

Deborah took a step back. "Michael, I don't think that this is the guy she's been talking about. I don't think that this is her boyfriend."

Arthur's eyes darted over to Joan who looked just as confused as he did. "Um, last time I checked, I was…right, honey?"

Deborah shook her head. "No, no, no. From what my daughter has been saying about you, I was expecting you to have a Halo."

Arthur smiled. "Is that so?"

"Oh God, yes. The girl may not openly admit it – that's our Joan for you – but she is crazy about you. I don't think I've ever seen her happier."

"Well…that's good. I feel the same about Joanie." He looked across at her smiling, even though she looked ready to kill at his use of that name. "Hey, sit. Stay a while."

# # # # #

Why couldn't they have just left after meeting him?

It had only taken twenty minutes and she was now beginning to regret inviting them over. Sure, she wanted them to meet the man she was gonna spend the rest of her life with. But they had met him now. There was no need for the stories. Especially these stories.

"You see that scar on her right arm? You ever asked her how she got that?" God, she loved her mother to death but still…she was a little bit of a gossip.

"No," Arthur frowned. "I haven't…honey?"

"I-."

Her mother cut her off. "Oh, I doubt she'd tell you. But I will. Let's just say she has a reputation for when she has a little too much to drink."

_Oh dear lord__._"Mom…"

"We get a call at one in the morning and all kinds of crazy thoughts are going through our heads. Nothing good happens at that time in the morning…except when your daughter ends up falling off a bar and snapping her arm in two places."

"Mother…" She sighed and tried her best to avoid Arthur's gaze. So much for the idea that he'd put that scar down to the field.

"Just keep her away from the red wine, OK? We don't want any more of those phone calls. Not good for your health."

Arthur chuckled. "Not good for her health either, it seems."

"So, do you work at the World Bank with Joan too?" Her father managed to finally get a word in edgeways. Boy was she relived.

"I do. Met your daughter when we both had to fly out to Moscow for a conference. Turns out she just got transferred to my department."

"Oh…a workplace romance!" Her mother was getting way too giddy. "So, who's higher up? You or Joanie?"

"Well as of just recently, me."

"Well, Joanie. You need to keep yourself in check…you don't want your boss to have to discipline you."

Joan choked on her water she was sipping.

"Oh sorry, sweetie. What happens in the workplace stays in the workplace, eh? I get you."

The smirk on Arthur's face told her he was enjoying this way too much. She'd make sure that he'd regret that later.

"You know what Joan wanted to do before she somehow wound up as a glorified cashier?"

"It's OK, mother. I've already told him."

"I don't think you have, sweetie." Oh boy, was he gonna regret even breathing never mind talking, grinning and winking at her. Even his usual charm couldn't save him.

"She wanted to be a singer…shame she couldn't hold a note for the life of her. But everyone loves a trier, right? She was even going to audition on one of those new-fangled TV talent shows until she luckily had a change of heart."

"OK," she had to intervene here. "Anyone want some coffee? Anything to drink?"

"Red wine, if you're offering, sweetheart." Arthur she was lucky that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Otherwise, she'd have no qualms about killing him right there and then. "But I'd settle for coffee."

"Coffee for us too, thanks."

She smiled at her father before she hotfooted it to the kitchen where she could finally breathe. God, she loved her mom and dad but sometimes? She forgot how they were the original embarrassing parents. Her three sisters had all had that experience and she was deeply regretting finding it funny when it wasn't her.

"Fuck…" In her hacked off state, she forgot how much it hurt to go reaching for stuff on the top shelf in her new kitchen just a week after being stabbed.

Arthur came running through in seconds. "Joan?"

"It's OK…I'm OK. Don't worry."

"Princess?" Her equally as caring and protective father was just behind him. "Princess, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Really."

"I'm known you for nearly thirty years. I know when you're not OK."

"What's going on?" Now, it was turning into a mini court with her on trial as her mom came through. "Honey are you OK?"

"Yes…" Why weren't the believing her? "Just cramps…nothing more." She tried to sell the story as to why she had cursed and was clutching her side, with a forced smile.

"Joanie, you can't lie to your mother. I know when you're being stubborn and not telling me. Now let me have a look."

Her eyes widened. "No, mom. Its fine, you don't need to." She was never gonna win. She could never fight off her mother. Her mother was always gonna check her daughter was OK. Joan just gave up fighting, her hand falling to her side limply as her mother gently lifted up her shirt.

"Oh good lord!"

Why did today have to be the first day without the bandages?

"The hell happened to you?" Now her father was worried, nearly screaming those five words, horrified to see his little girl hurt.

She couldn't even use the excuse "it wasn't as bad as it looks." Because it looked terrible and felt even worse.

"I-I…" She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I can't…I can't…"

Too many times had tears fallen from her eyes recently. She wanted her armour back. She needed her armour back because there had been a damn good reason for having it in the first place.

She hated being so vulnerable.

"Arthur," she tugged on his arm.

"Yeah?"

She said nothing but he understood and followed her upstairs, away from her hysterical parents. It wasn't just her armour she needed. It was him.


	21. Chapter 21

Heart-to-Heart

She slammed the bedroom door shut before she slid down it, rubbing her eyes as she landed on her ass, her back up against the door.

Arthur remained on his two feet, keeping close but still keeping his distance. She was difficult at the best of times but now? She was fragile, cracked and most importantly, she needed him. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Joan sighed and squinted up at him. Her voice was raw. "I'm sorry too. That damn coffee jar…damn."

It made him feel even worse when he was the one responsible for that. But still…what had happened was an accident. "Are you OK?"

"Emotionally or physically?"

"Both."

"Been better."

"For both?"

"Could say."

"Oh, honey…" He wandered over to her and took his place on the floor beside her. He let a few seconds pass. "I'm sorry."

"You've already apologised, Arthur. And apologies are not gonna get us anywhere…get me anywhere. My parents are no doubt worried sick right now. This is why I didn't ever want to tell them."

"Never?"

Joan picked at a loose piece of skin on her thumb, not making eye contact. "I dunno…maybe, one day, I thought I would…but I always kept pushing it back. _Next year, Joan, I'll do it next year._ Funny how I've been saying that for the last nine years."

He rested a hand on her knee. "I don't blame you. I only told my parents two years ago."

She nodded in acknowledgement. "But can you blame me? You saw what they were like downstairs. For all they know, I could've been stabbed by anyone in street…if I tell them the truth? That this is what I do for a living?" Now, she shook her head, not answering her own question.

"So, what are you gonna tell them?"

"I don't know…"

Again, Arthur took a pause before he spoke, making sure that his words were right. "When I told my parents…well, I'd like to think that I don't scare easily but-."

"Arthur, you jumped six feet up in the air the other day because a moth landed on you."

"Hey, I wasn't expecting that, OK? And anyway, I wasn't scared; I was just a little jumpy. Now, can I continue?"

"Fine by me but you better ask the neighbourhood bugs just in case they want to land on you again."

"Funny."

"Funny because it's true."

He gave in to the smile that was tugging at his lips. "Anyway before I was so rudely interrupted, when I told my parents, I was absolutely crapping myself. My mother? God bless her, she worries. My father? He couldn't care less. The man spent most of his adult life in the army; he probably thinks the agency is a better career path. Still…"

"Still what?" She prompted when he didn't finish that thought.

He shrugged. "Still, I don't know. End of the day, whatever advice I give to you will most likely be useless – my parents are not your parents. Instead, I just want you to know that I will support you whatever you decide."

She placed her hand on top of his. "Thank you."

He said nothing. Just smiled.

"I wanna tell them…its just I'm daddy's little girl. His princess. How do you think he'd feel if he knew what happened to me? How helpless he would feel?"

Arthur sighed. "Joan…I felt helpless."

Her eyes locked onto his. "What?"

"I had to hold you in my arms watching the life drain out of you. Stand back whilst others tried to save you. Sit and wait for news about whether you had pulled through. I thought that our lives together were over already before they had truly begun."

"Arthur," her voice was barely a whisper. "You've…you've never really talked about this."

"Because it hurts to talk about. You're the strong one. I'm just…" He chuckled. "The guy who's scared of moths."

She squeezed his hand. "Do you want to talk about this?"

"The moth incident?"

"No," she gave a faint smile before it all so quickly faded. "What happened. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Do I want to talk about how I sometimes relive that day over and over in my head? Talk about the nightmares I have where it all ends differently? How when I wake up every day since then, I have to check that you're still there, by my side? No. Not really. I don't wanna talk about it. I want to try and move on. But it's hard…it's hard when it happens to someone you love."

"Arthur…I don't know what to say."

"You're the strong one. And that's why you should tell your parents. Tell them that Joan Mackenzie will never go down without a fight. Most people would have died. You were stubborn as hell. You refused. They don't need to worry about you."

"But they will."

"And? I worry about you too. And always will. You will always worry about the people you love."

"So, I should tell them?"

"Again…it's not my call to make. But whatever you do decide, you have my full backing."

"Thank you."

"Always."

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Why can't things ever be simple for us?"

"If things are simple, then they're not worth having."

"So our relationship will never be that straightforward, huh?"

"Guess not. But hey, we live in a world full of lies, crazies and bureaucratic dickheads. Should we expect any less?"

"Absolutely not," she said with a laugh. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Your parents…when I meet them, it can't possibly go any worse than this, right?"

"Unless they…nope. I can't even think of something that could go any more wrong than this."

"That's good…I want to meet them."

"You do?"

"Yeah. You've met my parents, heard the obligatory embarrassing stories and laughed at my expense. It's only fair."

Arthur smiled. "You're gonna be disappointed. I was a saint in my younger days. There's no dirt on me."

"Why do I not believe that?"

"Hey, look at you, little miss innocent who seems a right handful after a few glasses of wine."

"Glasses? Try bottles, pal."

"Do I really want to ask?"

"You haven't met Meg, yet, have you?"

His eyes widened. "I'm not so sure I really wanna now."

She ran her hand up and down his arm. "Can I just stay here for the rest of the day with you, please?"

"I'm game if you are."

"Hm…you really don't know how tempted I am. Thank you, by the way."

"For what?"

"Telling me how you really felt about…you know. I know it wasn't easy but I'm glad you did. I don't want us to ever have to hold back things like that. I want us to be as open as we can be. Secrets can ruin relationships…it's better to have it all out there. Be honest."

"Yeah," he interlocked his fingers with hers. "It is."

"I'm gonna tell them."

"Now? I thought we had plans here."

"Sorry gonna have to flake out on you there. Because I need to finally get this out of my system. And I need you with me as I do."

Arthur pushed himself to his feet and pulled her up too. "Then, what are we waiting for then?"

# # # # #

This was difficult. It hurt. But after that heart-to-heart with her boyfriend, it was definitely the right thing to do.

Her parents were still in the kitchen. They stopped their low murmur of chatter as soon as Joan and Arthur joined them.

"Mom. Dad."

They were talking about her, no doubt about it. Trying to figure out how best to approach her after what just happened. Her father must have drawn the short straw. "Joanie…what are you-."

"Not telling you?" She smiled to herself. Not wanting to waste any more time, she cut out the whole speech. "I'm an operative within the Central Intelligence Agency. That's what I'm not telling you."

They both looked at her, both waiting for the punch line. They were outta luck.

"This?" Now, she showed her scar on her own terms. "I was stabbed last week whilst on an assignment. You wanted to know what happened, you wanted to know the truth? You have it."

It was a rarity for her mother to be such a loss for words. Her father had never really been much of a talker in the thirty or so years that she had known him, so his silence wasn't that much of a surprise.

"I've never worked for the World Bank…that was the cover you were meant to and you did believe. I joined the agency straight outta college. That's all. That's all there is to it."

Her mother was the one to break the silence. "You…were…stabbed?" Her voice wavered as she approached her daughter.

"Yeah…and if it weren't for this great handsome lump here, I would've died. He was my knight in shining armour. He saved my life."

"You?" Her dad waved an accusing finger.

"I'm CIA too. I'm Joan's boss." Arthur folded his arms across his chest.

Michael Mackenzie took a few steps closer to Arthur, rubbing his chin. Then, his expression changed from disbelief to anger, and he threw a right hook at Arthur. "You put my daughter in danger?"

"Dad!"

"My little girl? Nearly died? And you…you put her in danger?"

"Dad…he saved my life."

She pulled him back before he took another shot at her dazed boyfriend.

"Touch him again and I swear to God, I'll never talk to you again."

Her dad stopped, turned and looked at her. For the first time ever, she was seeing her father cry. "Princess…I'm sorry."

She pulled away before he could hug her, going over to her Arthur to check that her man wasn't hurt. "Babe, you OK?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's OK…"

"It's not OK…"

"Joanie, I-I..." The tears were really falling from Michael Mackenzie's eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. It's just the thought of…"

"I know, I know…" She couldn't help but walk into her father's arms now. She understood completely. "I'm OK, don't worry. I've got Arthur. He's taking care of me. You don't ever need to worry about me."

_Because he makes things better. He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel as if I'm the only girl in the world._

_You don't ever have to worry about me._

_I'm Prince Charming's own princess._


	22. Chapter 22

New Year's

It was funny how much things could change in the space of twelve months. New job, new house and for her? A new reason to live.

The winter's night was cold with a wind that bit at any exposed skin but it was good to finally get out of the house and be like a real, normal couple and watch the fireworks bring in the New Year together.

Together. After finally just getting rid of her parents yesterday that seemed like a damn good plan.

Her parents didn't like what she had told them, or rather what they had stumbled upon and forced her to tell them. But so what? She had Arthur and he would always be there for her, no matter what.

Arthur Campbell. The man who stood up to her father for her. The man who defended her honour. Her man.

"Here?"

Arthur nodded. "Here will do just fine."

Joan went to sit down before he gently grabbed her shoulder. "What?"

"You look absolutely freezing."

"Arthur, don't fuss."

"Nu-uh. I'm not fussing." He took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Better?"

"Better would imply that it was bad before but…"

"But what?"

"Yes, it's better."

He laughed.

"What?" She squinted at him. "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing."

She glared at him, ready to grab his ear and not let go until he gave her a straight answer. "Arthur…"

"OK, OK…it's just….that Joan Mackenzie I first fell in love with? She's back."

"Wasn't sure she actually left." She sat down on the wet grass and tugged at his arm for him to do the same. The spot they had picked, the hill overlooking the park was perfect. Perfect for the display that was about to begin in an hour or so. She was now glad that she had let him drag her out of the house for the night.

"No, no, no. I'm not saying it's a bad thing." He sat by her side and leaned into her. "It just means that I don't have to worry about you as much."

"You know you don't ever have to worry about me, right?"

"And you know that I always will, regardless of what you say, right?"

Yep. She knew. She knew all too well that her boyfriend was the sweetest guy ever. The sort of guy that stood up to her father even though he was too decent a human being to not fight back. She didn't have to respond to his question. A smile said it all.

"Now…" He reached into the basket he had brought and brought out the bottle of Champagne he had brought. "Please tell me if any cops come sniffing along because I've got the office on speed dial."

"Drinking in public…only acceptable if you have a brown paper bag or you're the head of the DPD."

"Damn right." He popped the cork. "And when you're the head of the DPD, not only will you get this wonderful perk but you'll also get a damn fine desk."

Joan laughed. "One day maybe…but you know what that place is like. I'll be lucky to get a look in unless I suddenly become John instead of Joan."

He shook his head. "Hey…when you're good, you're damn good. They'd be fools to overlook you. I'm not much of a betting man but I bet you that you'll be running that place in ten years' time."

"You think?" She only had two dreams now in life. One: become the first female DCS in agency history. The other? For the office of the first female DCS's door to read "Mrs Joan Campbell."

"Absolutely. Now…no more office talk. Tonight? It's all about us."

"You're damn right it is," she held up her glass that he had now filled for her. "To us."

He clinked glasses. "I'll drink to that every darn night."

"I'll drink to that for the rest of my life," she clinked his glass again. "Thank you for making this year the best year of my life."

"Hey, you made it easy." He smiled, taking a sip of his champagne before wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. "Except for the broken bones and the stab wounds. Less of that next year, eh?"

"Oh God, yes." She rested her head on his shoulder. "It's strange to think that I didn't even know you four months ago."

"How's that?"

"Well…" she grinned, knowing all too well how silly and cheesy it must sound. But it was so damn true. "Because, I really can't remember what life was like before you. Maybe I don't wanna remember."

"Me neither…because I do remember what life was like before you strode into my life with those ridiculously high heels on. And life before you? It sucked. Thank you for making me want to wake up in the morning." Years of experience had trained her to her that slight crack in his voice. "You never really know what true love is until you've found it. And now I could happily write the definition for it."

"You and me both, mister."

# # #

It was bone chillingly cold as the last few seconds of the year ticked away.

They stood hand in hand as Arthur held up his watch so they could countdown the seconds together.

"Six…five…four…"

Just being around him was one of life's simple luxuries.

"Three…two…one…"

Just having her in his life made him feel like he had won the jackpot.

Fireworks exploded, rippling through the still night sky. Arthur and Joan turned to one another, smiles on their faces as they embraced.

This year had been good. The next? Would be even better.


	23. Chapter 23

Round

She skipped a circle around her target. He kept moving with her, his sweat drenched back never being visible for more than a millisecond at a time.

Her body had been through hell. Tonight was only further punishment.

She took a step closer whilst he stood put. She was going in for the kill; this would be the last attack. All or nothing.

So much for taking New Year's Day easy. But at least she was spending it with her man.

"C'mon Arthur. Keep up."

"Hey…I am older than you, you know?"

"And? Some maniac stabbed me a few weeks back. You don't hear me bitching about that, do you?" Joan smirked. Boy, did Arthur need some Aloe Vera for that burn. "You're gonna need a better excuse, pal."

Strands of hair escaped from her ponytail and stuck to her damp forehead. Her body ached and she struggled to catch her breath. She was in pain. But it was that good type of pain. The sort that told you that you were still alive. Which was always a welcome thought when you had so much to live for these days. Like, say, the man in front of her.

She shook her head when she saw and followed his eye line. "And the last time I checked, staring at my chest was not a viable excuse either."

He looked up. "Sorry?"

"Just as I thought." Damn, that was her chance. That distraction could have been enough to wrap this up. Mind you, this was Arthur Campbell after all…just give him a little time…

He looked up in time to block two consecutive jabs to his face but he was unable to deal with a sweeping right leg. His body reacted in time to brace himself and he pulled her down to the thin mat with him.

Arthur landed on top of her but it was by no means, the pole position. She forced his own forearm up against his neck and estimated that he had around twenty seconds to counter before he passed out.

This may have been an impromptu sparring session, the lure of an empty ring at the gym proving too much for the two of them. Tomorrow she was heading back to Langley. She had made him many assurances and promises that she wouldn't push herself. Added to the fact that he was her boss and he would make sure she'd go no further than the water cooler in the bullpen without making sure she was OK, he had agreed.

As much as she loved spending time with him alone in the house, there was that stubborn part of her that refused to sit at home, collecting a wage for doing nothing but cuddling up to her boyfriend.

Sometimes she hated that part of her. But she was discovering that, how, ever since she met him, it was slowly fading. Her life became less about work and more about him. Maybe one day, that stubbornness would finally relent completely.

Either that or she'd have to find a job where cuddling with said and wonderful boyfriend was actually part of the job description. Because that would be the best job ever.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Arthur's face was reddening and he just managed to squeak out a response. "I've never felt closer to you, honey."

"Good. Because-." Somehow he had managed to throw his weight at her, threatening to break the hold. Joan just managed to rock with him.

The quick change led to him freeing his arm, throwing them both onto their backs. The sight of the slightest hint of a smile creeping onto his lips both made her smile. Smug little charmer thought he was getting the better of her. Hell, no one ever got the better of Joan Mackenzie.

A foot to the underside of his jaw wiped that smile off clean of his face.

His face hit the canvas. She slammed a knee into his back. He slapped the canvas. "Ok, ok. I'm done."

She loosened up on him. "Already?"

He groaned. "Yes…I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I'd rather you don't kill me before then."

Joan flipped him onto his back. She offered a taped hand and pulled him up to a sitting position. "Yeah? I kinda want that too. But you know what I'm like."

"Stubborn?"

"I was gonna say competitive…you ok?"

He kept rubbing his jaw, wincing as he did. "I'll live."

"Hey…let me take a look at that."

He tried to wave her off. "Hey, I said I'll live."

"Yeah you'll live. But you won't stop bitching about it."

"I would if you kiss it better."

"Really Arthur?"

"What?"

She could do nothing but shake her head. His pride may be a little wounded but his irresistible charm was still very much intact and she found herself giving into his suggestion. "Better?"

"I think you may have busted open my lips too."

"Yeah, nice try mister."

"Damn…" He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. "Now, enough about me – even if I am pretty darn amazing."

"And not at all modest."

"Yep." He grinned. "Now, I want an honest answer. Do not go all Mackenzie on me. Are you OK? And don't lie…because I'm sure I can get my hands on a polygraph if I have any doubts."

She cupped his cheeks, looked him dead in the eye. "A little sore but it's expected, ok?"

"Hm…"

"If you really want, you can keep me behind a desk for the next year, just to be sure. But Arthur? I don't like feeling useless. My country needs me."

"And I need you."

She kissed his neck. "And I need you too. Please, Arthur. I don't like to ask for much…but so far, I've done everything I've been told to and followed doctor's orders. Do you know how hard that is for me?"

He chuckled. "Very. I know. All too well."

"So…" She loved gazing into the dark pools of his eyes, and equally as loved losing herself in them. "Please Arthur. I promise you that I am OK and I am up to this."

"Well…since you handed me my ass on a plate just moments ago-."

"Like always," she felt the need to interject and say.

"Yeah, like always. I'm gonna say yes."

"Thank you. Sir."

"It's my pleasure, Mackenzie. I expect to see you in tomorrow, nine am sharp. Is that a problem for you?"

"No, no…I think my handsome driver has got that covered."

"I'm sure he…wait? What? Since when I am your personal chauffer? You have your own car. Maybe you should be driving me to work, other than driving me crazy like you do on a day to day basis."

"Ha, in your dreams."

"Yeah? You _are_ in my dreams. It kinda comes with the small matter of the fact that you are the girl of my dreams."

She bit down on her bottom lip. "You're not too bad yourself, Arthur Campbell. Now…this sort of crazy I drive you…the good kind of crazy, yeah?"

He nodded, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. "The best."


	24. Chapter 24

Lie

Three weeks back. It felt like neither of them had ever left the place.

The job always had that potential to drive a wedge between them. But the past couple of weeks? Arthur had never been so grateful for it. He could keep her out of the field and stuck behind a desk shuffling papers, out of danger, for as long as he pleased because he was the only one she'd ever listen to.

"I've got my eye on you, Mackenzie," he muttered as he placed the cup of coffee on her desk. It never failed to make him smile when she did when he brought her a cup of coffee every morning. It was up there with bringing her breakfast in bed for that same reason. Just to make her smile.

"Me? And why might that be?"

"Well," he perched on the edge of her desk. "Because it's hard not to when you're the most beautiful person in this room."

Her smile widened. "And there was me thinking that we were gonna try to keep it professional in the workplace."

"Hey, this is my department. I make the rules."

"Well, I'm not complaining, sir."

"Good…now, what's my favourite employee doing for lunch?"

"Hm...I guess she was gonna leave up to her favourite boss."

"Great. My two o'clock cancelled. You want to head up to that pizzeria at Southbank? Your favourite?"

"Sounds great."

"Sure does." He grinned before leaning in to kiss her.

"And there goes professionalism."

"Don't care." Why shouldn't he not show the world how happy he was? "How are you getting on here, anyway?"

She rolled her eyes before dropping her pen onto the stack of papers. "Bored to tears. So, thank you for giving me something to look forward to."

"Maybe we should have lunch more often."

Joan slowly nodded. "Yeah, that too. But I was more meaning you in general."

"Um…I may be a little slow here. What about me?"

"You," she prodded his chest with a finger. "You, idiot. Coming home to you, every day."

He couldn't stop that smile from tugging on his lips.

"But you already knew that, huh?"

"Yep." He grinned like a child. "So sue me."

"I've got a degree at home for Political Sciences with my name on it. I just may."

"Yeah, on what grounds?"

"On the grounds of being the most," she stole his hand, "wonderful," intertwined her fingers with his, "perfect," brought his hand up to her lips, "boyfriend I could possibly wish for. And I have some strong evidence. You're gonna go down for a long time, pal."

"Is that-."

"Campbell!"

"Damn," he muttered. "Don't you just hate Henry Wilcox?"

"Yep." Joan nodded, slowly letting go as Arthur wandered off to see what that windbag, who was standing at the door of Arthur's office, wanted.

Wilcox remained impassive, with his arms folded across his chest as he spoke. "We have a situation."

# # #

"How the hell am I supposed to remain calm?"

"Because, Arthur. If you don't keep a cool head and you let your personal feelings get in the way, you're gonna make a bad situation even worse."

"The man who played a part in the woman I loved getting stabbed, is somewhere out there and what? You expect me to remain calm?" He slumped into his chair, running his hands through his hair. "And you let him escape?"

"No," the mere suggestion looked to have dented that arrogant bastard's pride. Just when Arthur was beginning to see Henry Wilcox as a fairly decent human being for allowing them as much time off as needed. "No. I did not let him escape. A small group found out about Underwood's location, obviously wanted him out and broke him out. _I _did not let him escape."

Arthur sighed. He did not want to get into this. Not at all. "So, what's the plan here?"

"Underwood is a top priority. Thus, I am taking the lead on this."

"So, you can get all the credit, eh?"

"No, Arthur…because this guy is a big fish that could lead us to an even bigger pond. If someone cared that much to break into a high security location to free his sorry ass, then he must be big business."

"I guess…so plan?"

"I'm assigning your whole department on this."

"All?" God, Joan had been through enough and he didn't want her dragged through this. Hence, why he had kept the arrest of Scott Underwood, the accomplice to Isaac Nemeth – the man who'd stabbed her, the man that had nearly claimed the life of the most precious thing in his life – a secret from her. He thought she'd never know. Hoped she'd never have to find out.

"Yes, I've got a man briefing everyone right now."

"What? Please tell me you're joking."

"No. What's the issue here?"

"Joan, you inconsiderate bastard." He shoved Henry out of the way as he headed to the door.

_Joan. _That tough exterior covered up that fragile girl she rarely let anyone see.

The entire of the DPD was gathered around a single screen in the middle of the bullpen. His heart sank. The debriefing was already underway.

"Honey," he gently tugged on her arm. "Honey…"

She didn't look at him, didn't even acknowledge his presence, her eyes locked on the screen. Locked on the picture of Scott Underwood.

"Babe, please."

She wasn't even blinking; her skin a shade of porcelain.

"Joan."

Then she blinked and he saw how her eyes were glistening with fresh tears. She turned to face him, words forming at her lips but not coming out.

He took her arm, at first leading her to his office but, realising that that bastard Wilcox probably hadn't moved his fat ass, he took her to an empty corridor. "Babe…talk to me."

"Y-y-you caught him?"

He brushed a tear away from her cheek with a thumb. "Yeah..."

"A-and now he's out?"

"Yeah."

"Arthur?" Her voice was a whimper and so, very unlike her, that it both scared and pained him. He thought they were over this stage. He thought it was all behind them. "Why? Why didn't you tell me?"

"T-there was never really the right time. I-I didn't want to ruin our time together by bringing this up. I just hoped you…you wouldn't remember. I didn't want you to remember."

"I-I..." She shook her head, giving up at trying to form a sentence and buried her face in his chest, her tears penetrating his shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her tight, never wanting to let go as he rested his chin on the top of her head, smelling the lavender scented perfume he got her for Christmas. "It's gonna be OK, Joan. I promise you."

She pulled back, tilting her head up to him. "You should have told me."

"I'm sorry."

"You should have told me…" she repeated, wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry." And he was. Truly and deeply sorry. Sorry that he had kept this from her and sorry that he had to see her again breakdown in front of his eyes.

"You didn't want me to remember?" She frowned. "Well, Arthur. I do remember. I will always remember that day. Remember how grateful I was to wake up in that hospital bed and see you…that sort of thing? It changes you. It makes me appreciate things even more. Makes me appreciate you even more. But…I…"

He cupped her cheeks, pressed his forehead against hers. "Tell me. Please tell me."

"You lied to me, Arthur. You lied to me."

"I-I lied?"

She shoved him off, pushing him backwards into the wall. "You said it was all gonna be OK. You promised me that it was gonna be OK. Now, one of the guys that nearly killed me is out on the streets? What happens if he comes after me, huh? What happens if he finds me? How is that OK?"

"Joan…honey, it is. We'll get him. I promise."

"Save your promises, Arthur."

"Joan-."

"Save all of your promises and let me have this. Let me take Underwood down." There she was. The switch flipped. Joan Mackenzie was back. "Please."

Arthur sighed. She was right. He hadn't been straight with her. He owed her this. "You do. The second we get anything, you're my girl, ok?"

She drew a deep breath, a smile finally breaking through all of her pain. "Thank you. My man."

He smiled. "Least I can do. Now, how about we finish up here and head out to dinner early, before things start to kick off?"

"I'd love that," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But can you give me a minute? I need to go to the little ladies room."

"Sure, honey. I'll be waiting for you."

# # #

Arthur Campbell.

She loved that man with every fibre of her being and she understood his motives entirely. He always gave her butterflies when she saw him; butterflies and an unexplainable giddiness when she woke up beside him each and every morning.

But sometimes? He was too good for his own good.

The coast clear and the stall locked, she reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out the little brown tub, tipping it so a few pills tumbled out onto the palm of her hand.

They were becoming easier to swallow these days. No need for a gulp of water. They always went down in one.

Her hands finally stopped trembling, the world felt less suffocating and easy to face as she left to go to dinner with her Arthur.


	25. Chapter 25

Confrontation

Arthur Campbell was a spy; he tended to notice things.

Like the way his local coffee shop increased prices but decreased the quality. Or how the coach of the 49ers clearly had no clue what he was doing and wasn't even fit to coach little league. Or, say, how Joan had been acting that little bit differently.

The latter was obvious. It had taken a short while to learn all of her little quirks and, to an extent, he was still learning – the latest example being, how, for someone with her neurotises, she always, without failing, didn't bother to replace the lids on pens (and yes that bothered him, even more so when he had stood on a few loose lids on the floor in his bare feet). Yes, he was still learning and probably would always be learning but still. He knew her. He knew her because he loved her. And he knew something was up.

The past few days had been rough. The big dark cloud that was Scott Underwood was still looming over them. To give her credit, she had persevered and done a hell of a lot better than most would have given her circumstances. She was the old Joan again; the one that gave that little bit extra effort and brought a whole new dimension to things. She was happy, at ease and still that great big tease that was intent on driving him crazy.

But there was something else. Something he was pretty sure was just his imagination going into overdrive, trying to find something because things could never be _this _great and _this _perfect. Life didn't just work like that. There was always something. Something that was that antagonistic force trying to ruin their joy.

"Morning," he murmured, seeing her stir.

"God…already?"

"Afraid so?"

She rolled over and nestled into his side. "Can morning please go to hell? I'm not ready for it."

"Charming. Morning says hi back." He ran his hand up and down her bare back, trying to find the courage to try to ease his mind. "Hey…can I ask you a question?"

She sighed. "If it's what I'm thinking, no. I'm too tired."

Her remark took a few seconds to register. "Oh…no. I wasn't meaning _that. _But, just for clarification, that is a definite no, right?"

"Yes."

"Wait…I'm confused. Yes or no?"

"No."

"Ah, OK," he nodded then shook his head. _Damn it man. Get out with it already._ "Wait…what was I saying?"

"Something about a question," her breath was hot against his side. "You were gonna ask me something."

"Right…OK, here's the deal. You know how I worry-."

"You do. I have noticed. But you care and I love you for it. That's what makes my boyfriend better than everyone else's boyfriend and even those who don't have boyfriends because let's face it, unless they clone you they don't stand a chance of finding someone as perfect as you," she only seemed to pause for a breath to yawn. "But, yeah. Go on."

_Go on?_ How was he meant to go on after that beautiful little speech about him? Even, in her weary state, she managed to continue to amaze him.

"Arthur…" she whined. "Please, just spit it out before I fall asleep again."

"Sorry. As I was saying, you know how I worry?"

"Yes."

"And tend to overthink?"

"Yeah, you do to that too. Like how you're convinced that the new owner of that coffee shop is ripping you off?"

_Were his issues with that place so apparent? _"Sorry but if you compare the coffee before he took over to the coffee now? No comparison. The prices on the other hand-."

"Arthur," she warned. If her eyes were open, he was convinced they'd be glaring at him right now.

"Sorry, sorry. OK, I'm a worrier and an over thinker, so I just need you to be honest with me when I ask you this question, OK?"

"Yeah…" She opened her eyes and rested her head on his chest. "I'm listening."

"Promise?"

"Promise, babe. You're now starting to make me worry."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologising."

"Sorry."

"Arthur..." She elbowed him in the ribs. "Out. With. It. Now. Or so help me God, I will pluck all those hairs off your chest by hand."

"Fine, I'm talking," he muttered, even though he was sure she was bluffing. Even she wouldn't dare. He took a deep breath, using it as his last opportunity to stall. "You're…you're still on those pills, aren't you?"

Joan hesitated. "Y-yeah…I am."

"You know what the next question is gonna be, right?"

"You're gonna ask if I'm OK, aren't you?"

"Yep." He brushed loose strands of hair away from her forehead. "Well, are you?"

Again there it was. Hesitancy. "Y-yeah, I guess. I mean, it comes and goes, you know? Some days are really long…it takes it out on you."

"But you're still using those painkillers they gave you, yeah?"

"Yeah…not all the time but sometimes."

"You," he tried to sit himself up but the task was made near impossible by how she was using him as a giant pillow. "You still…need?" That was the word. "Yeah, need them like you did? I mean is it really bad or…?"

"It's…it's hard to describe I guess."

"It's been over a month, Joan. This may be just me talking but if you're still needing them like you did, maybe we should take you back to the doctor's. Just in case."

"N-no, no…I'm fine. It's just…well, have you ever been stabbed before?"

"Can't say I have."

"Exactly. You can't comment on things like this…and everyone is different. No set rules as to when you should be running marathons after such an injury."

He feigned a smile as she looked up at him. "I'm sorry honey…I am."

"It's OK. You mean well. That's what makes you so special."

Now his smile was genuine. He stroked her hair as a few seconds past in silence. "But, you know me. It'd just put my mind at ease if I took you to the doctor's. Just to be absolutely certain."

"Would it?"

"Absolutely."

She sighed. "Fine…if it makes you feel better, I'll phone and make an appointment. Deal?"

"Deal?" He kissed the top of her head. "Thank you, honey. That'll make me feel a whole load better."

"Good. But on one condition."

"Which is?"

"When I go, and then tell me that I'm absolutely fine and it's just normal, you continue to fuss over me like you've been doing these past few weeks. Coffee, breakfast in bed, dinner dates…everything, ok?"

"You noticed?"

"Yep. But, by all means do not stop on my account. Being with you is already special enough. When you start spoiling me? That just makes it that little bit more amazing. You're like the Disneyland of boyfriends. Otherwise known as the best."

"You're not so bad yourself, Mackenzie," he grinned. "If you want…when this blows over, I could take you to Disneyland…you know, if you want?"

Suddenly she sprang awake, her voice less tired and more giddy. "Can you?"

He chuckled. "Yes…I hear they have this whole Princess experience there now. You can be-."

"Cinderella." She patted his chest. "Yep. And you can be my Prince Charming. Well, you already are, but who cares? You're taking me to Disneyland and that's amazing just like you and now I'm awake if you want to ask any more 'questions'. And yes. You know what I mean."

Again he chuckled. "You are aware, that that honestly wasn't the question I was originally gonna ask you. Not…well…"you know what I mean." God, Joan. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"Hey, you're one to talk."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Oh," she scoffed. "I've got way too many examples that I don't even know where to begin to start."

"Good…don't bother. You'll only make a fool of yourself with how wrong you are. I'm innocent."

"Yeah…sure."

"Of course," he shook his head. "You know…if we get an appointment for today – and believe me, as the head of the DPD, I have that lovely perk to ensure my lady is well looked after- we could always stop for ice-cream afterwards."

"In January?"

"Sure, why not? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing…nothing at all. That'd be perfect. I just love when you spoil me, that's all."

"Ha, well, you're gonna have to get used to it. Whether you like it or not, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, so you better get used to it."

"Oh…I don't know…that'll be quite hard."

"Well," he planted more kisses on the top of her head. "I'll just have to make it easier for you, eh?"

"Like…?"

"Hm…how about a nice, three course candle lit meal cooked by a handsome chef tonight?"

"You're flying Gordon Ramsay over?"

He pouted. "Feelings…I do have feelings. You might not physically see them but they are there."

"Kidding, sweetie. Of course you're handsome…it was just the "chef" part that I was sceptical about. After all, you did burn our Christmas dinner."

"And after all, in my defence that was one of our first proper days in this house. I didn't know how to work the cooker."

"Sure, sure." She said softly before sighing. "I really don't wanna get up. Why can't I just stay here, with you?"

"Because unfortunately we don't get paid to sit around and do nothing-."

"Yet, you do."

"Hey. Feelings. Again. God, why do you have to be so damn annoying and cute at the same time?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Deal with it."

"I'm trying…but I have the distinct feeling that you purposely make it difficult for me."

"I'm neither gonna confirm nor deny."

"Oh really?" He arched a brow. "You really think I can't make you talk Mackenzie?"

"Hey mister. Be nice. I nearly died last month."

"And how long are you gonna be using that excuse for?"

"As long as I damn well please." She smirked. "Besides, we all know that I can definitely make _you _start talking because I know your weakness."

Now he sat up. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then what? C'mon. You make bold statements like that, you gotta back them up."

"OK…I think it was our fifth date? You know when we visited the Smithsonian-."

"And you were little miss smarty pants that knew absolutely everything about everything. Yeah. I remember."

"Hey…at least I didn't embarrass us in front of a bunch of school kids by thinking that Mount Everest was somewhere in Canada."

"It just sounds Canadian, OK? Easy mistake to make."

"And yet, that four year old schooled your ass."

"Awkward when that is, in fact, true," he shook his head. Why could he easily picture Joan as that sort of oh-look-at-me-aren't-I-clever type of annoying child? It was either that or she was some sort of rebel, who carried around a boom box and hung around on street corners. There just seemed to be no line in between. And the thought of either made him laugh.

"What's so funny?"

Only now did he realise he was laughing out loud. "Nothing. Continue with my "weakness" that you are adamant that I have."

"OK, so after the Smithsonian, we called it an early night and you were struggling to take off your sweater…"

"Oh dear god…"

"And I helped."

"Lord almighty…"

She cut straight to it. "You're ticklish, Arthur Campbell."

"Lies."

"You want to test that theory?"

"No. Touch me and…and…no Disneyland. Ha. Get out of that one." His threat quickly disappeared at how the way she looked up at him melted his heart. "No, no, no. I take that back. I'm sorry. But please don't. I am begging you."

"Get me a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper and I'll think about letting you off the hook."

He nodded. "Yes ma'am."

# # #

"How did it go?"

Joan walked into Arthur's open eyes. "Fine, honey. Just like I told you. You can go and ask Doc Johnston if you don't believe me."

"No, I believe you." He always did.

"Good," she muttered into his chest. _Good_. She was hoping that he would have believed her. It was tough enough to make him stay in the waiting room whilst she lied her ass off during that appointment. Winced when Doctor Johnston checked her scar, groaned when she had to hop onto that bed. Not overly…just enough to ensure she'd score another prescription for the next few weeks and not be taken back to that godforsaken hospital.

Just enough to make it believable.

"So, all clear now? We can put all of this behind us?"

She nodded, ignoring the prescription in her pocket. "Yep. We can."

"And go and get ice-cream?"

She grinned. "God, you're such a kid."

"Says the girl who wants me to take her to Disneyland?"

"Yeah well…" Damn, she had no defence. "And?"

"And, I don't care. I want ice-cream."

She laughed. She did too but, deep down in her heart, she half-expected Arthur's phone to start ringing that second to ruin their day.

He held up a finger to ask for a moment as he accepted the call. "Yeah? Speaking…yeah…ok, that's great…thank you." He pocketed his cell. "Rain check?"

"Work?"

"Yeah…for both of us. We've tracked Underwood down."

"Damn inconsiderate bastard. First he sets me up, now he ruins our date? I really hate this son of a bitch."

"Yeah, me too." Arthur placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "You good to go, Mackenzie?"

She nodded. "You bet. And I'm gonna make that dick pay for ruining our plans."

"Please do."


	26. Chapter 26

Full Moon

"_C'mon Mackenzie…I can't lose you."_

_Arthur. I can't lose you either. I'm trying. I'm fighting. I'm fighting for you._

"_I love you…I love you and I'm sure as hell not gonna lose you. Where is your famous Joan stubbornness when you need it?"_

_I love you, Arthur Campbell. And I don't wanna lose you either. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I'm trying to hold on for you. For us._

"_Sorry honey…I k__now how much you hate that word. What about determination?"_

_His voice was painfully frail as he tried to joke. Forget the seeping and searing wound to her abdomen. It was like she had been stabbed through the heart. "Better…"_

_Arthur's head snapped back in her direction. "Joan? Hey…hey, are you with me?"_

_Forcing her eyes open for the briefest of seconds, she met his dark, honest eyes that were glistening with tears. "Arth…" Her body failed her, her own eyes stinging as she realised it. Realised she was slipping._

"_Just hold on, honey. We're almost there, OK?"_

_Slipping. She tried to reach out, to try and cling onto him to stop herself from getting pulled under the dark quicksand. A tear left her as her right arm fell like a dead limb. "I…" Her voice was only just there. Just more than a whisper. "…love…" Pained. Every breath came with a sharper pain that could not be ignored. "…you."_

"_Joan."_

_His voice should have been reassuring. But fear ate away at it like a parasite._

"_Hey, it's gonna be alright. We're gonna get you fixed up. And I'm not gonna leave you, ok?"_

_No. Of course not. But the fight was getting harder. He wouldn't be the one to leave her. It'd be her. "I'm…" Those two letters burned her dry throat. Her body in conflict; she was freezing when she was burning up. Arthur…through half-open eyes she saw the desperate man with tear streaked cheeks and the possessed look of a madman as he made a sharp right turn. "…scared."_

_Scared. Not scared of death but scared of what she would lose, all those moments she'd never get to experience. Taking his surname…starting a family…those lazy days in bed when there was no place else she'd rather be but in his arms._

_His eyes. His dark pools she'd be happy to drown in. She'd never get to see them again._

"_It's OK. There's not__hing to be scared about." His tone contradicted his words. "C'mon, stay with me…I love you…Joan?"_

_The car came to a screeching halt._

_Doors opened. Doors slammed. Doors opened._

_His shaking hands slid under her and he leaned inside, his own breathing erratic as he mumbled to her a bunch of "sorrys, its oks and I've got yous__"__ as he scooped her up. Her body not protesting at this action, she fell into his arms, her head resting against his chest._

_She was still hanging in, clinging onto the smell of his aftershave._

_Automatic doors rattled open and the soft hum of chatter hit her. "Please," Arthur begged. "Please, somebody help her."_

_More noise. A few gasps. Action._

_Her fingers had nearly made it to wrapping around a fold in his shirt when she found herself being pulled away, lowered onto a gurney. Eyelids flittering awake for no more than a second, for perhaps a last look at the man she had envisaged a whole life with, she saw how that periwinkle shirt was stained with blood._

_Her blood._

"_Joan…" He snatched her hand, squeezing it tightly as she felt herself being pushed deeper into the ER. "It's OK. You're gonna be okay." She could picture that forced, unconvincing smile on his lips._

_Chatter._

_Words were starting to lose all clarity, voices all twisting into one. Except his. "Not happening," he was defiant and his hold of her hand grew tighter._

_More voices._

_Then again his. "She's not my friend. She is my girlfriend."_

_If she had the strength to, she would have smiled. She was his girlfriend. And he was her boyfriend. Maybe that'd be it…maybe that day she longed for would never happen. Maybe she was gonna lose this fight. Maybe she'd never have that day. The day they became man and wife._

_No._

_His hand was being pulled from hers; his fingertips clawing at her. That last little bit of strength in her, the last remainder of that determination, made one last effort to grab back onto him, desperate for his touch and for him to not leave her, fizzled out as they wheeled her away from him._

_Arthur._

_That was the last thing on her mind as she finally succumbed to the pain._

# # #

"Joan."

There it was. His voice that was always there to help save her. This time it was from her own thoughts. "Yeah?"

"Babe, you were miles away," he said with a kind smile, reaching over to the passenger seat to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. "You sure you wanna do this?"

She exhaled deeply. "I don't wanna do this. But I have to do this."

Rain pelted off the windshield, streaking the glass and making the dark evening sky outside almost impossible to make out. The full moon struggled to break through. "You don't have to do this. There's a tack team around the corner. Plans can be changed. No one will think any different of you if you change your mind. I won't."

Joan removed his hand that was cupping her cheek, bringing it to her lips. "I know you won't."

"Then you know how much I care about you...if you don't think you can do this. Then don't."

"I can do this."

"Good."

"And I will do this."

"Good," he repeated squeezing her hand. "As long as you're happy then I'm happy."

"I am."

"Then I am too." He nodded then cleared his throat. "So you know the plan?"

They'd been through this many times in the last couple of hours. "Yep."

"You good to go in a few minutes?"

"Yep."

"And you know how handsome your boyfriend is?"

"Yep. I sure do."

Arthur grinned. "Good. I just needed to make sure that you were still paying attention to me. And since you answered that correctly, I have no doubts."

Joan laughed softly. "You do know that the only times I don't pay attention to you is when you're watching the football, creating conspiracies about coffee shops or when you think that Veronica is the blonde one when it is so clearly Betty."

"I am still not convinced on that one."

"And I am not convinced either because I know for a fact that you are wrong."

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinion."

"Yeah, it's just yours is wrong." She shook her head and smiled, grateful for the welcome distraction from the serious business that lay at hand. But there was only so long that she could put it off. And time was ticking. "Arthur, honey?"

"Yes?"

Leaning over and cupping both his cheeks, she rested her forehead against his. She closed her eyes, savouring these precious seconds that, at that lowest and darkest point of her life, she thought she'd never savour again before she opened them again. "I'll see you at home?"

His eyes twinkled even in the darkness. "I'll see you at home."

She sighed, knowing that the moment could not last forever. But they had forever to have more of those moments. "I'm looking forward to it." She reached for the handle of the passenger's side door.

"Good luck…not that you believe it in or, hell, even need it."

She nodded. "I don't believe in it, because I don't need it."

# # #

Arthur Campbell didn't wrap his lady in cotton wool. He wrapped her in Kevlar.

Scott Underwood wasn't the smartest SOB out there. Less than two months after his last meet ended up in him behind bars and his brother killed, he had arranged to meet a potential buyer for Stinger missiles in another shady warehouse. But this time, the contact was a CIA asset that could be trusted. Arthur had checked and double checked this guy, just to be sure.

Things went to plan. Underwood showed up, right on time. A tactical team monitoring the perimeter, there was no chance of an ambush.

It was just Joan and him.

"So, we meet again." She shoved the muzzle of her Desert Eagle into the base of his skull. "Knees…now."

Underwood sighed. "I recognise that voice…I heard that you were on death's door."

"You thought wrong. Now knees…now. I'm not playing nice anymore."

"And I'm not playing along."

Her orders were shoot to kill. She squeezed off a round into the joint of his right knee. She was gonna shoot to suffer.

# # #

_Eight-forty…eight-forty one…eight-forty two._

Arthur had the uncanny ability to glance across at the digital clock display to witness each new minute. A war documentary droned away on the TV.

It had been nearly two hours. What was taking her so long? What happened if she wasn't ready? What happened if something had happened again? Only this time he wasn't there to save her.

_Arthur, you're being stupid,_ he told himself. _You're talking about Joan Mackenzie, you idiot. It was your fault that something had happened to her the last time. She'll be fine. Quit worrying._

Still, his mind didn't ease until he heard the ring of the doorbell. Then butterflies began to dance in his stomach.

"Joan?" His voice as he opened the door to her came out as an excited squeal. He grinned. "You're back."

"I sure am."

"I thought you had a key."

"I do. But if I used it, then I'd be missing out on this."

He frowned, sure he was missing something here himself. "On what?"

"This…" Joan grabbed him by the collars of his shirt, sending him crashing into her lips.

"Oh…I get you now," he murmured. "If that's the case, maybe you shouldn't have a key. I mean, sure it means that I have to get off my backside and move but…I can't say that I'm complaining."

"Yeah? Maybe I should do just that…"

"Go ahead," he smirked then something caught his eye, a sick wave of déjà vu hitting him. "Joan…" He stared down at her blood streaked blouse.

"It's OK. It's not mine."

He knew it wasn't but it was just that memory that would always haunt him, was resurfacing. "Y-you wanna talk about what happened?"

"No. Just business as normal. You'll hear about it soon enough. But I didn't kill him, if that's what you're asking. That's the easy way out." She stole his hand, intertwined her fingers with his. "But enough with that. Just us now, OK? Our night."

"Yes. I like that idea. In fact, I was busy whilst you were away."

"You were?"

"Yep." He excitedly led her into the living room, running over to the coffee table. "Now, right now I can't take you to Disneyland right now." He picked up the DVD cases in his other hand. " But I can at least bring Disney to you."

"Oh, Arthur Campbell. I do not deserve you."

"I actually went to the shops to buy these…you get some funny looks, strangely enough." But it was all worth it to see her face light up the way it had just did.

"Stop. Being. So. Wonderful."

"I would but you know…you _do_ deserve it. You did a great job out there. I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, yeah…movie time, mister. Wait…us time. No work, ok?"

"Deal."

"Good." She was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. Giddy. He loved seeing her like that. It never failed to warm his heart. "So what films, did u buy?" She said as she pulled him onto the couch.

"For my Cinderella…well Cinderella of course."

She nuzzled his neck. "My Prince Charming is pretty darn charming."

"Yep. But my lady is worth it."

"Yeah and my tramp is too." She chuckled. "Sorry…it was too easy. You set that up perfectly."

"Hm…" He pouted. "You know that blood on your top is slightly unnerving…you may want to take it off."

"Oh, so that's how the kids ask these days…are you offering to help?"

His grin was wide and, again, his eyes had that twinkle. "Well ma'am. I sure am."


	27. Chapter 27

Stage

_The ironic thing about to keeping this journal, is trying to find the right words to write and failing miserably. Journals are the place to write down all your feelings, your emotions and blah blah blah. But I can't. Arthur Campbell…words cannot express how much I love this man. Love…unconditionally and completely, but that one word? Love? It doesn't seem enough._

_Arthur's in Geneva. Conference._

_Arthur's away in Geneva and I'm here, alone, resisting the urge to call him. It's a Catch 22 scenario. As much as hearing his voice would be more than enough to tide me over until tomorrow, it would take just a little bit away from tomorrow when he comes back to me._

_God, Mackenzie…pull yourself together. One day without him. What are you letting this man do to you? Not even seven weeks and you can barely function without him._

_Mackenzie. Now even my own surname brings me back to that charming bastard. My charming bastard. I cannot even internalize my own thoughts about him without him._

_Too many hims…and yet, I still don't have him with me tonight. The real catch 22 here._

_A few more hours of this torture, then all will be right with the world. Especially, if he brings back chocolates. Work or no work, you go to Switzerland, you bring back chocolates…particularly if you're on our kind of salary._

_Still…he'll be enough._

That particular entry he must have read about…two, maybe three times but still. It never failed to bring a smile to his face.

He did, in fact, bring her home chocolates. Also a little plush teddy that he was adamant she'd hate but instead it had taken pride of place on her desk at work. Most of all, the biggest gift of the day was, in fact, to him and it was seeing the way her face lit up when he showed up at her door that evening. As much as he hated leaving, the best part was, always, coming back to the girl that you loved.

Delicately shutting the journal and resting it on his chest, he turned his head to look at her quietly sleeping alongside him, her arm draped across his stomach. It was Saturday and a well-deserved day of planned rest too. And even though she'd probably complain, he'd managed to slip the batteries out of her alarm clock so she could finally have a long-lie for once. Especially after the past few weeks when she had fully shifted back into the old Joan Mackenzie mode, not holding anything back as she chased bad guys in six-inch heels.

It didn't bother him what Joan Mackenzie she was. He had her and that was all that mattered.

And he loved both.

Picking up the journal, the best Christmas gift a man could ever get, he flicked through to the end. The last line…the ambiguous start to a whole new chapter.

_I just wish he was here._

The first couple of weeks, he'd looked at that line over and over, only ever seeing it as a haunting line that would be the prologue to the darkest chapter of his own life. Now, as the nightmares and worries about losing her had finally began to subside, that line, the line that was written the night before he almost lost her, the line that she had written all alone in a crappy hotel room no doubt blaming him for ruining their plans, he had finally become content with it.

He had been there. He was still there. He'd always been there. For her and with her. In sickness and in health. Forever and always. He loved her.

Arthur leaned forward to kiss her forehead, causing her to stir. "Morning beautiful," he said with a smile as her eyelids flittered open.

"Good morning," she blinked a few times to clear the fogginess of sleep out of her eyes before her eyes found his. "How long you been up?"

"A little while."

She nodded. "Up to much?"

He adored how she had noticed the journal in his hand but had become so comfortable with letting him in and dropping the armour around him. "Not much…counting my lucky stars, admiring your beauty and wondering if heaven knows they're missing an angel somewhere. You?"

Call it cheesy and clichéd all you want but it wasn't when you actually meant it. And from the way she was trying her best to bury into his side, to hide her blushing cheeks, she knew that he meant every word. "I was sleeping…emphasis on the "was"."

"Sorry…did I wake you?"

"Yes, you did. When there's a wonderful man waiting for you to wake up, you do kinda sense it, you know?"

"Can't say I've had much experience of that myself. I would say there's a lovely lady in my life that possibly could but she's too lazy to wake up first."

She elbowed him in the ribs. "What ever happened to "beauty" and "angel"?"

"She assaulting me right now, that's what." He grinned. "No…whilst my beautiful angel-."

"Better. Keep going."

"—slept like the delicate soul she-."

"Stupid. Stick to beautiful angel."

"Because delicate souls aren't trained to kill, huh?"

"Exactly. Now keep going."

"Right, so as my beautiful angel was sleeping, I was trying to think of how to make next week as special as I could for her."

"Next week?" Her face crumpled in confusion. "Am I missing something here?"

"Valentines' Day."

"Oh…"

"Y-You do celebrate it, right?"

"Yeah…I guess, I mean…in the past? Not really…"

"Really?" The girl was head over heels for Christmas; it hadn't crossed his mind that there was the possibility that she was a Grinch when it came to those other special days. "You haven't celebrated Valentines' Day? Ever?"

"Never really had the right guy I guess…" She patted his bare chest. "Until now."

"So, that's a yes?"

"Yep."

"Good, good, good." Now he himself was getting giddy, the possibilities of next Friday already forming in his head. Fancy restaurants, fancy hotels, who knows? He wasn't entirely ruling out the possibility of a surprise weekend to Rome or, even, Disneyland. Decisions, decisions.

"What are you planning, Arthur Campbell?"

"Me?"

"Is there another Arthur Campbell in this room?"

"Well, for obvious reasons, I sure as hell hope not."

"Is there or is there not?"

"No."

"So…gonna enlighten me as to what you're planning?"

"Well…" He dragged out the word then smirked. "Nope. It's gonna be surprise."

"I don't like surprises."

"No. You don't like the notion of surprises as some surprises have that risk of being bad. And I promise you, Miss Mackenzie, that it will not be bad."

"Hm…clues?"

"Not a chance."

"Why not?" She whined.

"Because it will ruin the surprise. Good God, Mackenzie, do you even know what the word "surprise" means?"

"No…but I know what perfect means. It means a man called Arthur Campbell and it has synonyms of wonderful, handsome and dreamy."

"Sorry babe, sweet talk won't work on me."

"But I mean it. You're," she ran a hand through his hair as she looked up to him with wide, puppydog eyes. "Charming, kind, caring, sexy, marvellous, smart, amazing-."

He placed a finger on her lips. "And you're adorable. But no, Mackenzie. I'm not telling you. Can't you just wait a couple of days?"

"Six days isn't a couple of days…"

"Fine. Can't you just wait six days?" And for someone who wasn't really big on the day just minutes earlier, eh?

"No."

"Tough luck. You're gonna have to. Now, before you start waterboarding me for Intel, I'm gonna go fetch my lady some breakfast-."

"No, it's OK I'll-."

"Nope." He gently pulled her back to the mattress. "Stay. I'm gonna go fetch my lady some breakfast in bed because said lady has been working her ass off recently and deserves some pampering. And that is an order, so don't you dare try to get up."

She smiled as she let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

"Good girl…I won't be long." He found her lips with his. "Except if you hear the smoke alarm, then add another ten minutes onto my return."

"Don't worry," she chuckled. "I normally do."

# # #

"Keys, keys, keys." Arthur patted down his jacket and his jeans. No luck. He dashed over to the bowl on the coffee table. No such luck either. "Babe," he called up to Joan. "Where did you leave my car keys?"

"Um…"

"C'mon…we're gonna be late if you don't hurry up and remember."

"God Arthur. Check my bag."

"That wasn't so difficult now, was it?" He grinned as he scanned the room for her bag, finding it tucked under the coffee table. The pitfalls of lending his car to his girlfriend.

"Shut it you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" He muttered as he zipped open the black leather handbag she always carried around with her. "Or what, honey?"

"Don't test me, Arthur Campbell."

"I'm not…why don't you try and get ready before the place sh-." _Shuts. _But the word stopped at his lips, his eyes drawn to what he had found. No. Not his keys.

Her footsteps on the stairs. "What are you muttering about now? Arthur? Art-."

"Joan?" The bag fell to the ground with a thud as he stood to face her, holding the offending item in his hand. That goddamn prescription bottle he thought he had seen the end of.

"Arthur…I-I…"

"I thought you said you were better? That you didn't need these?"

"I-I don't." Her eyes were anywhere but his eyes.

"Then why do you have them?" Arthur's voice was neutral, neither rising to his anger or sinking to his worry. "Joan, please. I want an answer."

"I-I…" She kept stuttering, kept looking completely and utterly ashamed.

"Sweetheart…I love you. No matter what. But, please. Answer me."

"I-I can't."

"You can't?" _Why? Because the answer was plain to see? _"Joan, if you're still in pain, you can tell me. I know I worry but, right now? I'm starting to worry about _this_."

"I'm fine."

"Then why do you have these?" He squinted at the label, the font just readable without his glasses. "Three days ago? You got these three days ago?"

"I-I did."

"Why?" _Three days ago? _For the past couple of weeks, she'd been right as rain. The old her. Fine…or that was just the outside. "I still want an answer."

"I…"

"Honey," he placed the tub on the table, moving over to her. "Honey, I'm here for you. If you need to talk about-."

"No." Joan's answer was just like her. Strong and defiant. "I don't need to talk. I'm fine."

"If you're "fine" then why are you still on painkillers, huh?

She shook her head and turned to go.

He grabbed her arm, regretting this rare and single instance of force on her instantly, letting go when he the look of shock flash across her face. Arthur swallowed hard. "Honey, I'm sorry." He didn't mean it. He'd never, ever mean to hurt her.

"I-I…Arthur, I can't do this."

"No. We have to talk about this."

"No. We don't." Again, defiant as always. But inside, she was crumbling. Crumbling as she approached him, pulled him close and placed a line of kisses along his neck. "Baby…I promise you," her breath hot against his skin as she whispered into his ear. "I promise you…I'm OK."

"If you're OK then give me them."

"Give you what?" She pulled back from the embrace.

"The pills."

She frowned. Then nodded. Then with shaking hands handed them over to him.

"Thank you…" He slipped them into his pocket and would deal with them later. "Now, back to today. Back to us." He didn't want to force the issue. Didn't want to push her away - just in case he never got her back again. By putting it behind him, he hoped it would stay there. "Since you've slowed us up and we'll be lucky to get there before closing time, you've got ten seconds to get your fine ass in that car."

"It's a 24/7 supermarket you fool."

"Yep…and? Car. Now."

She played along with him, dashing off to the car, acting like _that_ had never just happened.

But it had.

And he feared that those nightmares and worries he had just managed to rid himself of, were starting to creep up on him all over again.


	28. Chapter 28

Dance

Lost in the moment; lost in his eyes.

The music driving each and every one of their movements was secondary. Not even background noise. It didn't exist. The other couples on the dance floor didn't exist either. It was just her and her wonderful man who was leading this moment.

_This moment. _It was so much more than a dance at the agency annual inter-departmental ball. It was their moment. Her and Arthur's.

He held her like she was the most precious thing in the world, his arm firmly around her waist, the other was holding up the hand that was intertwined with hers. The music kept them swaying, kept pulling them closer even though they couldn't be closer.

"_Breath-taking, gorgeous, stunning."_

The words Arthur Campbell had used to describe her earlier that evening when she had decided to surprise him with that dress she had decided to buy just for tonight and just for him. She had never seen him speechless before. Ever.

Yet, she had never known herself to blush until she met him.

He made her feel special and that was without even trying. He made even the darkest of days brighter. He was her North Star. He was the guy that gave her a reason to live.

"_I was never planning on going to this damn thing tonight until you came into my life. Tonight's the night I get to make all of the other guys jealous. With you, I'll be the luckiest guy in the room. Hell, with you sweetheart, I'm always the luckiest guy on this planet."_

Five months together and, still, she felt like a teenager around him. Five months together, the best five months of her life, and he still managed to find new ways to make her smile and amaze her. Arthur Campbell…the man that had been there when she had never needed someone as bad.

Closing her eyes, resting her head against his shoulder, she spoke softly. "I didn't get the chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight, mister."

"You not?"

"No…"

His breath tickled her skin. "As much as I'm a modest man-."

"Ha."

"Actually…maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But when a beautiful lady offers to give you compliments, you do not say no. So, beautiful lady, I'm all ears."

"You say how you're the luckiest guy here-."

"Yep. And on the planet. Each and every day."

She beamed, finding his gorgeous eyes as she opened her own. "Well, I'm also the luckiest girl. If I believed in a man up there, I'd thank him for you. Thank him for finding that missing piece of that puzzle that is my life. Thank him, from the bottom of my heart, for that said missing piece for becoming a constant and helping put all the other pieces back together when I break. I'd thank him…for the most wonderful man and time of my life."

Tears shimmered in Arthur's eyes. "That is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard."

"It's the truth." And, without a doubt, the most exposed and vulnerable that Joan Mackenzie had ever let herself become. Words on paper were easy. Words out there…they were difficult. Always had been until him. But for him? She'd fight every battle, conquer any challenge, anything. Anything to be more than who she was.

That capacity to love that she now possessed? She didn't even think was possible before him.

"You've changed my life in the best way possible, Arthur. You're my both my best friend and the man that I want to grow old with."

"You're the girl that makes what we do, the best job in the world."

"You're the guy that I want nothing more than to just spend a day in bed, curled up with you."

"You're the girl that I want to start a family with."

She smiled. "Kids, huh? You definitely want them?" She'd always suspected it but never had it confirmed,

"With you? I'd be crazy not to. What with your brains and beauty? Hell, even with a fraction of all that, they'd still be unbelievably perfect."

She bit down on her lip as they began to map out the rest of their lives together, together. "Just as long as you don't expect me to become a soccer mom, then I'm game."

"Soccer? Oh good lord, no. Football or baseball-."

"Just not in the house. I trust the children…I don't trust you."

"Aw, sweetie. I love you too." He grinned. "How many?"

"Hm…you can ask me that one later."

"How much later?"

"Um, after the first one, maybe? You know, after I have to suffer for nine whole months whilst you sit around and do nothing?"

"That sounds good to me," he said in a tone that suggested he was mentally preparing himself for a nudge in the ribs or a kick in the shins. But she was too in love with this moment and this man to even think about it.

"Two."

"Two what?"

"Kids, Arthur. One of each ideally but hey. I'm not going to be picky. All that matters is that they'll be ours and perfect."

"One of each, huh?" He nodded his head at her suggestion. "A mini-me and a mini-you. Kinda little bit scary, do you think?"

"Yeah…a mini-Arthur running about the place. That's all I need. I've got my hands full with you as it is."

"Oh yeah? A mini-Joan Campbell who'll be so obsessively neat, all her colouring-in books will be super neat and tidy with no white spaces or colour outside the lines." He chuckled then his laughter faded away but the smile remained, similar to the one on her face. "Odd…when I say something like that, I'm expecting some sort of glare at least…not a smile."

"You are aware of what you just said, right?"

"Hmm…"

"You said Joan _Campbell._ Not Mackenzie."

"I did, didn't it?" Now, his face lit up. Unashamed of the slip-up. Not accidental. Purposely.

"Joan _Campbell_…I like how that sounds." Long gone was the independent Joan Mackenzie who'd never even consider dropping her surname at marriage. Even the notion of hyphenating surnames sounded alien. Now? She wanted nothing more in the world to take his name and become Mrs Joan Campbell.

"I do too…but to me? You'll always be Mackenzie. _My _Mackenzie."

"And you'll always be my Wheels."

"And I'll always love you." He shook his head and chuckled. "Sorry…sounding a little like Mariah Carey there, eh?"

His laughter was infectious. "Yep. Minus the high notes. Or the low notes…or, in fact, any of the notes in between."

"Harsh."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

He frowned. "Maybe…maybe one day I will serenade my lady just to prove her wrong."

"Maybe you will…you do sing right?" Never, had she once heard him sing. Around the house he was more of a whistler, table drummer and, sadly, an air guitarist. Never once had he taken lead vocals.

"One day…one day, you'll find out."

"Then I…think? Yeah, that's it. I think I'm looking forward to it then." She leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. "I'm gonna nip off to the little girls' room. Won't be long." She kissed him again before tottering off in her higher than normal heels.

For as much as Arthur hated seeing her go, he loved watching her leave. Memorized. Just like the day they had met.

He turned around to head to the bar, with the intention of grabbing another Scotch, when he was almost involved in a head-on collision. "Sorry," he muttered before he looked up to the guy, who should've really been paying attention, not Arthur. Then he spat out the name. "Seth."

"Good evening, Arthur." Seth Newman smirked, his smile as crooked as the nose Arthur had once broke with his fist. "You and Joan seem…cosy."

"Need I remind you, that I am technically your boss now?"

"Technically, I know."

"Being chums with Henry Wilcox doesn't give you the power to do what you want you know, so I'd be careful about what you say around me, about me or about _my _girlfriend, OK?"

Seth folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "Not gonna say a thing about you or your _girlfriend _personally. The world does not revolve around you pair, although, you sure as hell act like it."

"And how is that _not _saying anything about me or Joan? And, enlighten me. When do we ever "act like it"?"

Seth shrugged. "'Meetings' with just you two in your office, 'sick-days' that just happen to coincidence with each other. Hell…how little Miss Mackenzie gets all good assignments just because she's banging the boss."

"Points one and two? They have some credit, I'm not gonna lie. Point number three? Joan gets all the good assignments because she is good. Damn good, definitely the best in the department and up among the best in the whole damn agency. Oh and you're right," Arthur smirked. "She sure as hell is banging the boss. Deal with it."

"Doesn't bother me." For a spy, Seth's bullshit was remarkably easy to see through. "I'm not here to talk about your silly relationship which will end much like it started – with the two of you cheating on someone else."

"Then what _are _you here to talk about?" Arthur had to give himself credit. being madly and deeply in love had changed him over the past five months. As much as he wanted to break Newman's nose again, he had developed a whole new level of restrain. "Do you actually have a point for once in your life?"

"Just here to offer you, and your lady…where is she anyway? Ran away with someone else already?"

"Ladies' room…or in your mind, she's off 'banging' the cleaner."

"Ha. Not even likely…the only thing she's interested in is the size of the guy's wallet." He took a few seconds to laugh at his joke, a joke that had seemed to bypass Arthur completely, before he calmed down. "Yeah…I'm just here to offer you a little advice."

"I'm bored of this. I'm going to the bar." He went to go but Seth grabbed his arm.

"Don't keep secrets from each other. They _always_ have a way of getting out. And when they do? They're a heck of a lot messier."

Arthur stood and blankly watched as that snake Newman slinked his way back into the foray of people gathered on the dance floor. _The hell was all that about? _Whatever grudge Newman held, and had always held, was the most completely and utterly unfounded grudge possible. He had always seemed to have this notion in his head that Arthur had 'stolen' Joan away. No. Joan had chosen Arthur over Seth. Joan had chosen real love over nothing.It was petty, sad and pathetic.

And Arthur did not feel the slightest bit sorry that Seth had no one to, as he so bluntly put it, 'bang' anymore. And if all women had the slightest shred of common sense each, he'd never had anyone to 'bang' ever again.

# # #

Arthur Campbell was a wonderful man. The best. That was made this, lying to him, even worse.

The lows she was sinking to, the lows she could feel herself unable to rise from. Hiding pills in a pocket she cut in the lining of her clutch. Sneaking to the doctor's for a refill. Lying her ass off when she promised him, that one time he had confronted her about it, that she was OK.

That wasn't her. She didn't want it to be her. But it was too hard to fight.

The pills…they didn't seem to have an effect. But, at the same time, they did. They were driving a wedge between her and the man she loved. Her heart hated them but her body craved them.

A knock at the shut door of the cubicle she had hid herself in.

She nearly dropped her clutch, pills nearly escaping.

"Miss…excuse me miss. I'm gonna need you to step out of the cubicle."

The hell? Sure she had been gone…yikes, nearly ten minutes, but last time she checked there was no time limit on using the bathroom. The unknown male voice calling out to her said differently.

"Miss. Are you OK in there?"

"Yes…" She muttered, trying to compose herself. She unlocked the door, and quickly reached for the flush to help cover her tracks. "Coming…" She opened the door to a hulking suit. _Security? Again, what the? _"Can I help you?"

"Miss, you've had reports that you are in possession of narcotics on these premises."

"I-I…" _Shit. You've gotta deny this. Regardless of the fact that her 'drugs' were entirely legal, prescription and not the sort of hard-core drugs that the gathering audience in the ladies room thought she had. _"You thought wrong."

"Miss, we're gonna have to check your bag. Else, we're gonna ask you to leave."

"I'm doing no such thing." She squeezed past the bouncer, painfully aware that he was following her out of the ladies room and back out into the mail hall.

"Miss." He kept calling after her.

For some reason, she found herself heading over to Arthur's general area. Then she stopped, knowing that after what had happened a few days ago, it was not the best idea. "You're wrong."

"As you can appreciate, we have a zero tolerance policy on narcotics on these premises. We have to take all reports, incredibly seriously."

"Reports?" _Who the hell knew in the first place? Arthur didn't…no one knew. Unless it was mistaken identity…but then again. Joan Mackenzie didn't believe in coincidences._

"Yes. Now miss…"

People were looking. Her voice was rising as she tried to deny the accusations. Voices of the on-lookers were too rising. She tried to remain calm, tried not to get involved. But soon it became a nasty war of words, a tug of war over her purse. Something had to give…unfortunately it was her purse that did, pills spilling all over the floor.

She dropped to her knees, scrambling to clear the evidence. But it was all in vain. It was all too late.

"Joan?"

Arthur's voice broke her heart. His disappointment, his sorrow, his anger…all rolled into one and all painfully evident. "I-I…" She couldn't even look at him as tears began to fill her eyes. She instead focused on clearing up her mess until strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her away, kicking and clawing at the air. "No, no, no…" She became limp in his arms and he carried her away from everyone and outside into the chilly February climate. "No…"

"Joan." He let her go and gently tried to take a hold of her shoulders.

She pushed him back. "No."

"Honey…honey, please." He tried to shush her, tried to cup her cheeks. Again, it was everything but her heart that was ruling her decisions.

"Get off me."

He fell backwards, onto his ass. "Joan."

"Arthur…I can't…"

"You broke your promise. You lied to me."

"I told you I can't." Her voice spiked with anger.

"Can't with what?" His voice too was rising. Angry. With her. "Joan. You lied to me. You told me that you were OK…I just want to help you."

"Help me? I don't want your help and I don't want your pity." Why couldn't she stop herself? Why was she saying words that she didn't mean? She was helpless. The demons were winning. "I-I…"

"You what? Joan, I'm here for you."

Her voice was raspy; her cheeks damp with fresh tears. "No."

"No what? Stop saying no. And talk to me."

"I'm sorry, Arthur…I'm sorry." She turned her back on him and began to walk away. "I can't…"

"So what, you just gonna walk away? Then what?"

She turned back to face him, just for a moment. Just for enough time to tell him what everything but her heart was forcing her to say. "Nothing…I can't do this to you."

"You leaving?"

She swallowed hard; found that her feet were forcing her away from him. Answering the question for him and her. She _was_ leaving him.


	29. Chapter 29

Question

Alone with only his thoughts and Jack Daniels for company.

He had crashed on the couch, unable to sleep in an empty bed and with bedcovers that her perfume still lingered on.

All those grand plans for tomorrow, Valentine's Day, suddenly hanged in the balance. Valentine's Day…he'd been looking forward to that day ever since he had met her. It was the day he wanted to treat her just like the Princess she was to him –even if he tried to do that every single day.

Joan…his precious angel…what had happened to her last night?

He had tried calling, finding not only her voicemail but soon enough her mobile which she had forgotten last night. Anything could have happened to her. Why did he not go after her? Why did he let her just walk away?

_What if he never saw her again?_

He called in sick, not able to face the world as a broken and lost man. He'd also, just in case, called to see if she had showed up too. She hadn't. That worried him even more. Something could have happened to her, in her state last night. Why the hell did he not go running after her when she was walking out of his life?

Joan Mackenzie was the greatest thing to have ever happened to him and now, she could just become a memory.

He sighed, slamming the bottle of Jack onto the coffee table at such force he was a little surprised that it didn't smash. Alcohol wouldn't help. He was already stone cold sober, analysing everything over and over in his head, wondering if he should have spotted the signs earlier.

But he did spot the signs earlier. And _that_ was what was haunting him the most. He saw her reaching for the pill bottle a little more than she should have. He saw how eager she seemed to take them when she woke up every morning. He saw the signs and did nothing. He'd let her slip through his fingers and now she could possibly be outta his grasp forever.

Padding upstairs, along the hallway, he came to a stop as he entered their bedroom. "Honey come home…" He whispered under his breath. "Please…I just want to know that you're OK."

Finding what he was looking for, he perched on the edge of the bed and flipped through the journal, knowing it was as close as he could get to her. His heart stopped as he noticed a new entry, some two months after the last. Dated just two days ago.

_I hope you will read this in time, Arthur._

_I'm not the easiest person to get to know. I bottle up my feelings, I'm scared of a lot of things that I don't like to let on about. But, and here's the kicker, I want to let on about._

_But no. I'm Joan Mackenzie and Joan Mackenzie doesn't operate like that. Just when she feels as if she is about to tell the love of her life something that is really important and from a heart guarded by walls, she normally bottles it at the last minute._

_That guy is slowly climbing those walls. And she's not scared of that. She wants to be open with him, wants to spend the rest of her life with him and this journal, this very journal that, on many occasions when her special guy thinks she's sleeping reads, is helping her communicate without having to feel as scared and vulnerable as she really does._

_I'm scared, Arthur._

_I don't like losing but I am. This battle…it's tough. And it's not gonna get any easier. I need you to save me. Because I don't like losing and I'm scared as hell that I'm gonna end up losing you._

_Joan_

_X_

# # # # #

If that wasn't the wake-up call she needed then something was wrong. Severely wrong.

The shock that had initially overridden her system from the evening before was beginning to fade; the heartbreak may never. If she lost Arthur over this…the thought brought tears to her eyes. In fact, she wasn't too proud to admit that she had cried herself to sleep last night on her best friend, Meg's couch.

Alone, although Meg tried her best. But unless she could conjure up Arthur, erase this whole sorry mess and magically transport her into his arms at this precise second, it wouldn't be enough.

Meg had even offered her her own bed. Yet, Joan politely rejected. Hers or not, it'd still feel empty without Arthur beside her.

"Coffee as black as Bin Laden's soul. Just for you," Meg more or less forced the cup into Joan's hand. "You look like you need it."

"Thanks," Joan muttered, staring down into the black liquid, the rich smell running up her nostrils. She sighed and placed the cup on the counter.

"C'mon Joan…you said you didn't want anything to eat. I'm not letting you get away with having nothing to drink either. It's not good for you."

Another sigh. More pained than the last. "I don't care."

"Less of that attitude JoJo."

Joan looked up at Meg at the godforsaken nickname. "Don't."

"You do know, I'm gonna keep using it over and over again until you at least give me an explanation as to why you showed up, at my door at one o'clock in the morning, in some beautiful designer dress, with tears running down your face, expecting to crash here." Meg took a much needed breath. "Is it Arthur?"

_Arthur. _The mention of his name nearly set her off again.

Meg sensed it, coming over to hug her friend. "Oh Joan, honey. Are things OK between you two?"

"If things were OK, do you think I'd be here?" The tone of her voice caught even her off guard. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."

"No, it's fine. Honestly." Meg offered a kind smile. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No. Not really."

"Are things…?" She was being really carefully, trying her best to find the correct words and the words that would not cause further upset.

Joan couldn't be bothered waiting for her friend to finish deliberating. "Over?"

Meg silently nodded.

Tears filling her eyes, her hands trembling as she tried desperately to wipe them away. "I-I don't know."

Meg again hugged Joan, tight, letting her sob into her shoulder. "Honey, it'll all be fine."

_Fine? _Yesterday they were planning their lives together. Today, she was faced with the prospect of a life without him. Her dreams plummeting to earth. The future she desired, her future with the greatest guy ever, had just been snatched away from her. "It's my fault…it's always my damn fault."

"Hey…nobody's perfect."

"Arthur was." Saying his name out loud brought on more violent sobs and Meg, her best friend since they were agency rookies, had to try to somehow steady her and stop her from sinking to her knees.

"Joan, hey. What happened? Tell me…it's probably not as bad as you think."

"It is…"

Meg pulled away slightly to look in her bloodshot and tired eyes. "Tell me. Please. I've never seen you like this before. Tell me. I'm starting to worry."

"I-I…God. Where the hell do I even begin?"

"The start," Meg remarked pulling out a stool to sit alongside her. "That's probably as good a place as any."

"Yeah?" Joan wiped away the last of that batch of tears with the back of her hand.

"Yep. Now whilst we're still young and alive to sort all this out."

So Joan told her the story. The whole story. The stabbing. The wonderful guy that was there to hold her hand. The perfect few weeks of lovely domestic bliss they spent together. The pills. And, finally, how the pills ruined all of that bliss by poisoning her, turning her into someone she didn't recognise. Someone that pushed away the hero of the story. Pushed him away and walked out of his life.

What made Meg one of the few people Joan actually let in, was the fact that Meg was also agency through and through. She was one of the few in this twisted world that could possibly understand. "So…what are you gonna do?"

"I-I don't know," Joan exhaled. "I just don't know."

"Then, I'll come at it from another angle. What do you want?"

The answer was easy and it came straight to Joan's lips. "Arthur. I want Arthur."

"Then, honey, what are you doing sitting in my kitchen when there is, seemingly the most perfect and flawless man out there no doubt waiting for you, huh?"

Joan closed her eyes, feeling the waterworks again. "I'm scared I've blown it."

"How? This man clearly loves you and you really think he's not feeling the same, right now?"

"I-I…I know he loves me. More than anything in the world."

"And you do too right?"

"Of course," she replied, in an almost accusing tone. _Of course she loved Arthur. Why wouldn't she? He was the man who bought her flowers just because. He was the man who never failed to make her smile or laugh. He was the sort of man she thought never existed because he was too perfect. Why would any woman not love him? _

"And?"

"And what?"

"And," Meg slapped the countertop with the palm of her hand. "You are still here, in my kitchen, instead of with him. God, you silly girl…you're crazy about him. And he's crazy about you. Get out of my damn house and go make things right."

"I-I…" _Damn. Why did this have to be so hard? _That same feeling, that one that she felt when she was bleeding out in the back of Arthur's car, was again haunting her_. Fear. _Scared of blowing things for good…scared of having lost him.

Meg was right. Sitting here, wallowing in self-pity wouldn't put things right. She had to.

# # # # #

The knock at the door was so faint, that if it weren't for his overactive mind and his heart that was longing for the love of his life to return, he probably wouldn't have heard it. But he did and he scrambled off the living room floor to his feet to answer it.

"Arthur…"

"Joan." Just seeing her, even standing there with rain soaked clothes and soaking wet hair, she had never looked better in his eyes.

"Arthur…I'm sorry." As she spoke, in barely even a whisper, he noticed her eyes were wet too. With tears. "Last night…I'm sorry."

"Joan…sweetheart I-."

"I love you, Arthur Campbell. More than words can ever say. What I said last night…everything I've ever said to you…I mean every word of it. Last night…" Her voice caught and he went to hold her but she took a step back and away from him. "No, please. This is important…I need to say this. I don't want anything to jeopardise what we have. Anything."

"Me neither. Just being without you for a couple of hours…I've never felt so lonely. Alone. You've become everything to me…my whole world. Without you, I am nothing."

A smile tugged at her lips, fighting through her look of sorrow and anguish. "That's why I am here, Arthur. I want this and I want you. So no more secrets between us."

"Agreed." He nodded.

"I-I'm an addict, Arthur." Joan looked as ashamed as she had last night and that day when he had confronted her about the pills. "I'm an addict."

He swallowed and slowly nodded. "I know."

"I need help."

Again he nodded. "We'll get you help."

"I-I need help…because I don't want this to affect what we've got, I-."

Hushing her, he welcomed her into his arms. "I know. I read it and it's OK. I will help you, whether you like it or not. You might think that this will hurt me but, sweetheart, seeing you like this? It already hurts like hell."

"Thank you," she mumbled into his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Hey, hey…" He gently pulled her off as he felt tears beginning to soak through his shirt. "No more tears, OK?" _No more tears because it'd probably set him off crying as well__.__ Tears of sorrow for seeing her hurting. Tears of joy that she was finally back in his arms._

"OK…OK…" She nodded, taking a deep breath. "OK…Arthur…I need to ask you something."

"Anything." _Anything for her. _Although he noticed a sudden change in her tone, a sudden composure hitting her.

"Arthur Campbell…" She took both of his hands. _Wait, was she?_ "Will you be my Valentine?"

He smiled. Never so sure of an answer ever before in his life. "Yes…yes I will."


End file.
